


The Harvelle Gospels

by LaurytheLatrator



Series: The Harvelle Gospels [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Pre-Relationship, Retelling, Righteous Woman Jo Harvelle, Season/Series 04, Season/Series 05, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6267925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurytheLatrator/pseuds/LaurytheLatrator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo Harvelle is the Righteous Woman, newly raised from Perdition by Anna, Angel of the Lord. Now she and the only people she can trust, Dean, Sam, and Bobby, have to stop the seals from breaking and try to prevent the Apocalypse.</p><p>You know, the family business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 2008-2009

_  
_

_It happens like this:_

 

"You have my mother," Jo Harvelle says to the crossroad demon, "I'm here to get her back."

"And what will you give us?"

"Anything."

 

_It happens like this:_

 

After twenty years of saying no, Jo Harvelle picks up the knife, full of rage and itching to hurt.

After another twenty, she digs herself out of her own grave with a terrible ringing in her ears and a slender handprint on her wrist.

 

_It happens like this:_

 

"Who the hell are you?" Jo Harvelle asks the intruder. Bobby and Dean are knocked out on the barn floor, all their defenses useless against this creature.

The redheaded woman smiles and says, "I'm the one who pulled you from Perdition."

 

* * *

 

Ellen is in heaven, at least, that's what the angel says. _Angel_ , a redheaded bombshell named Anna, and Jo had never let herself believe in angels but she's pretty sure they're not supposed to be like this.

"I took you from the pit," Anna says in the scant space between their faces, Jo refusing to back off despite the bile in her throat, "And I can throw you back in."

She can’t trust her, that much is clear. It’s a short list who she can trust: Bobby, Sam, and Dean. Bobby and the brothers’ parents had known Ellen and Bill, and now they were the only family she had. Seeing as how both John and Mary had bit it on their last hunt, Jo was the closest thing the Winchesters had too.

“So, lemme get this straight,” Dean mutters as he wears out the rebuilt Roadhouse floor, “Yesterday this angel chick tells you she saved your ass from hell, now she’s threatening to take it back?”

“Yup,” Jo pops her P humorlessly, “Up and down like a whore’s drawers.” Her mom isn’t around to tell her to watch her language, and Jo finds cussing immediately depressing.

“ _If_ you don’t help the ‘angels’,” Bobby is still too wary to drop the air quotes, “Stop the seals breaking, that is. Sounds like you’ve got one option, sweetheart.”

“Can we really do it?” Sam asks, because it doesn’t even occur to him that their makeshift rendition of Three Men And  ~~A~~  Baby wouldn’t help her out. “Can we keep Lucifer from rising?”

Jo sighs, the kind of deep bone weary sigh she should be too young to pull off. _Four months_? No one but Anna knows how long she was down there. Jo looks in the mirror and sees a stranger: bright eyes, long blonde hair, warm, smooth skin. How could forty years not leave a trace?

She wants to die rather than live that long again, only now she knows where she’ll go.

 _They can never find out_ , Jo thinks, glancing around at the hunters. _I will not be weak_.

“Here’s to stopping the end of the world.” They raise their bottles but bypass the clinking into straight drinking.

 

* * *

 

Jo discovers a couple things about Anna as they work together to stop the seals breaking.

1) She doesn’t eat, but she will somehow always appear when Jo is eating chocolate cake. Not that it happens often, but it is obvious why after the second time she popped into a diner to offer redundant information and stare at Jo eating her dessert. It made the blonde blush and then have a minor freak out over _why_ she blushed.

2) She smiles a stupid amount for someone who acts all heartless.

“These people are meant to die,” Anna tells their dumbfounded group with such earnestness, “We’re here to offer them salvation.”

3) She is head of her garrison.

“I am the head of my garrison,” She says. Jo glances over at her, away from the kids playing in the park that nearly went _Terminator II_. “I have seraphs under my command who need to see me being strong. My faith must not waver, lest theirs crumble.” When Anna meets her eyes she is not smiling. “But I’m not immune. I look at these people, _alive_ , and… I doubt.”

~~ 4) Maybe she isn’t so bad after all. ~~

 

* * *

 

 _Fuck that_ , Jo amends when Anna and Uriel burst in the barn saying they want to kill Cas.

As far as she can tell, Cas is harmless. He gets freaked out, but only when he’s tuning into angel radio, which would freak anyone. He can see demon’s faces, which came in handy while they were escaping that mental hospital his family dumped him in. He’s been clinging to Dean since they found him, and Dean’s been pretending he isn’t smitten by a pair of watering blue eyes.

Casey Novak should not be a threat to the angels, unless they’re saying shit they don’t want heard.

“Anna, this is bullshit,” Jo argues, “He’s just a _guy_. A wimpy, sad, little guy.”

“Actually,” Anna says, about to be insufferable, “He’s an angel.”

You could hear a pin drop.

“What?” Dean demands, discretely shifting to shield Cas even more.

Anna’s staring at Cas as she says, “Castiel. Do you have any memory of me?”

“No,” He answers in that chewing rocks kind of voice, “And I don’t care to.” There’s a flash of hurt in Anna’s eyes that Jo thinks only she can see.

“Very well,” She says and steps forward.

“Wait!” Jo shouts. “If Cas is one of you, why do you have to kill him?”

“You may be the Righteous Woman,” Uriel growls, Jo _really_ hates that guy, “But there are things you have no right to know.”

That’s when the fighting breaks out. Until Cas manages some freaky light show that sends the angels packing.

Sam does some research on the Novaks while Bobby retrieves a psychic to unlock Cas’ old memories. Dean and Cas talk sporadically but mostly end up gazing at each other. Jo looks up at them occasionally in between sprucing up their weapons and memorizing that sigil Cas used. They’ll probably need both sooner rather than later.

Once the trance is done, Cas, or Castiel, confirms Anna’s story.

“I was tired,” He tells them all, “I was a broken wheel, under too much strain. I chose to fall. It was… painful.” Jo doesn’t think he’s talking about ditching his wings.

He can’t tell them why Jo was resurrected or what the angels are planning for her because that was after his time. Sam tracks his grace to a library overflowing with plants and flowers, but as they arrive to find the grace itself missing, Cas reports hearing the angels discuss sending Jo back to Hell unless they give him up.

“We’re not giving him up,” Jo says, daring the others to contradict her. No one is dumb enough, not even Bobby who looks shifty. Dean decides, with such forced nonchalance it’s really sad, to go outside and sit with Cas. Jo tries not to listen, or pay attention to the fact that he doesn’t come back in, not even when the rest of them are bunking down to sleep.

 

* * *

 

“You were really an angel, man?” Dean can’t think of a gentler way to broach the subject as he settles beside Cas on the Impala’s hood. Normally he’d shoo he guy off, but he deserves a pass after all the shit that’s rained down on him lately. “Feathers, halo, stick up your ass, the whole nine yards?”

“I don’t believe I ever had a ‘stick up my ass’,” Cas says, all Mid-Western prissy sensibility, “But I get your point. Essentially, yes, although my true form is harder to explain.”

“Oh yeah? Try me,” Dean urges with a raised brow.

“Ever heard of a chimera?”

“Head of a lion, body of a goat, and… a snake tail?”

“Close.”

“Huh.” Dean mulls that over until Cas carries on.

“I looked nothing like that of course, it’s just an example of how bizarre a combination of parts might be. My parts don’t have a physical equivalent. If it helps, you can picture a chimera with wings the size of the Chrysler building.”

“Must’ve been pretty grand.” Dean lets his eyes slide over to Cas’ profile; the dark stubble, ruffled hair, thin lips, sloped nose all downturned with the weight of the world. “Why’d you give it up?”

“I told—“

“I know, I know,” Dean waves his protest away, “But that was general stuff. There had to be a breaking point. You wouldn’t have just dived out of the clouds without something pushing you over the edge.” Cas is quiet so long, Dean wonders if he ruined the moment, whatever the moment might be.

Cas turns his face up to the stars and Dean comes back to earth. “I was in Egypt, during the plagues. Most of the seraphim were. I killed first borns.” He looks to Dean, a first born. “I hadn’t remembered that. I hadn’t remembered watching Sodom and Gomorrah burn, either. I didn’t remember the no doubt countless times I rained fire on humanity because I was constantly being reprogramed.” Dean wants to interrupt, ask how exactly an angel can be _reprogramed_ , but finds he doesn’t want to disrupt Cas’ flow for something he really doesn’t want to know. “Until your mid-nineteenth century, I never knew the extent of my crimes. I watched with my siblings as humanity did fine work tearing itself apart, and I pleaded with my superiors for us to intervene. They fought on Holy Land, Dean,” He says, meeting Dean’s gaze with his own desperate one.

“They wouldn’t let you,” Dean says.

“That’s when I was sent again to Naomi, the angel who performs corrections. Only this time she began to rant first, told me how much trouble I was to keep correcting every time my love for humans gave me doubts. I was horrified to hear all the ills I’d committed, and that every time I expressed my feelings the memory had been erased. So I took the only available way out.”

“Sayonara wings,” Dean mumbles as he takes a long drink.

“Yes, and soon I will pay the price. Inevitable human death, or some worse fate at the hands of my siblings.” He glances up again. “Either way, this is my last night on Earth.”

The air is thick with pain and tension, and Dean wants to cheer the poor guy up. He’s not sure how exactly, and the few first ideas he gets he dismisses them as selfish. This isn’t about him, but for some reason he’s been fixated on Cas since they found him. It doesn’t make sense.

But then he’s kidding himself, because Dean has been bi since before he knew what the word meant, since the day he went crying to Mary at age 6 because one of the boys he _really liked_ hadn’t wanted to play house. His mom had wrapped him in her arms that smelled like apple pie and cinnamon and GSR, and told him that what he was feeling was okay, and that stupid boy was wrong for using such a mean word.

So Dean wants Cas. That’s a given. He also wants Cas to not look like being dragged into this heavenly war is the worst thing that’s happened to him.

Dean’s going to stick with the last part. “There’s good things about being human, right?” Cas smiles, slightly, but it’s a start.

“True. My brother’s wife Amelia is a fantastic baker. I could never regret my actions as they lead to the best scones in the world.” Dean can’t really tell if that’s a joke. Cas has a sarcastic, dry sense of humor.

“Pie is my vice,” Dean replies, pointedly taking another swig from his flask. He offers it to Cas, who takes it as if it’s the Snake itself.

“I could literally never smell flowers before,” Cas adds, finally taking a sip. It scrunches up his face and Dean thinks he’s never seen anything more precious. “I wouldn’t have understood the joy of beekeeping.”

Dean knows he’s got his full smile on, the one that’s giving him lines. “There’s music.” He throws the _rock on_ symbol and Cas chuckles.

More wistfully he adds, “Family.”

“Sex.” Cas stops, a warm flush taking over his cheeks. Dean does a double take. “No way. Don’t tell me you’ve never—“

“Look, I never had occasion, okay,” Cas admits waspishly, drinking more than before. “Jimmy and I were raised very devoutly, and it’s not as if I got out much as a beekeeper.”

Dean stands up, smoothing down his shirt. He can hear Mary egging him on: _The boy is cute, what do you have to lose?_

“Cas, there are two things that I know for certain: one, Bert and Ernie are gay; two, you are _not_ gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch.” He opens the backdoor to the impala, his heart in his throat. Still he gives his best go at a smirk, and watches Cas’ pupils expand and shimmer in the dark. “You coming?”

 

* * *

 

“It was a popular gossip item in Heaven,” Uriel tells Jo in her dream, “Which of the Winchester boys you were in love with. The debate raged on and on, it was embarrassing really, until Anna suggested perhaps you weren’t enticed by either. Maybe you don’t ‘swing that way’, as you say.”

Jo doesn’t give an inch, not one fucking inch. _Screw Anna._ How fucking dare she tell those feathery dick-bags anything about her.

“In the end, we decided that you saw the both of them as your own brothers. You hunters have such complicated family dynamics—“

“Aside from keeping me from my beauty sleep, what’s your point?”

“If you don’t hand over Castiel, I will personally slaughter Dean and Sam Winchester and deprive you of the only family you have left.” He shrugs as Jo goes cold. “What the heck, I’ll nix old Uncle Bobby too, make a clean break of it. Is that enough of a point for you, girl?”

 

* * *

 

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas says, looking into Dean’s devastated green eyes. Jo wants to look away, give them their privacy, but it’s so surreal it holds her attention. Dean looks like he wants to kiss him, but their audience is holding him back. That Dean Winchester, always too concerned about other people.

Instead of a kiss, Cas takes Dean’s hand in his. He squeezes his palm, then lets his fingers slip away. He strides to the angels with the poise of a death row inmate.

But then the demons catch up with them and there’s an explosion and Dean yells “NO!” just as Cas says “Close your eyes,” and they all go up in flames.

When Jo blinks the black spots away, it’s Castiel standing before Anna and Uriel. There’s a rigidity to him that was lacking as Casey. He is… _inhuman_. Uriel glowers but Anna beams at him.

“Castiel, it’s so good to have you back.” Her tone makes it seem like she’ll hug him, but she doesn’t move a muscle and neither does he.

“Let us be clear,” Castiel announces, and though his voice hasn’t changed, _it so has_ , “I may no longer be human. But my reasons for leaving remain. I don’t serve you, Anna, and I certainly don’t serve Heaven.” He’s gone in a flap of wings, those huge black shadows they’d just witnessed return. Jo looks over to Dean’s stricken expression and realizes he hadn’t said goodbye, not really.

 

* * *

 

Sam has been adrift since he and Dean killed the demon that got their parents. He’s been torn between half-hearted dreams of returning to Stanford and settling down, and the allure of hunting that had been bred into him. John had always been very supportive of his want for something normal, being the only one of them who’d gone most of his life without knowing what goes bump in the night.

But Sam loved his parents and loves the life they gave him even if he yearns for the day he won’t have to rinse blood and monster goo from his clothes.

Nothing stops that secret desire more than holding Jo as she divulges everything that happened in the four months ( _forty years_ ) that she was in Hell.

“I did it, Sammy,” She chokes out through tears, “I did what Ellen would never, after _centuries_ down there. I tore into them over and over and…”

Sam is lost, “You held off longer than anyone could.”

Jo shakes her head into his chest. “It’s with me every damn day. I feel it, you know, the blood on my hands, the knife.” She lets out a shuddering sigh. “I wish I couldn’t feel a fucking thing, Sam.”

Sam’s never had to be a caregiver, the benefit of being the younger sibling with two healthy parents. The closest he ever came was his brief fostering of that Golden Retriever before John put his foot down. He’s never needed to take on someone’s pain like this, never had a catalog of words to comfort with, never felt someone cling to him as if they’d crumble to ash and blow away.

Stanford can wait. Dating and marriage can wait. 2.5 kids and a dog can wait.

He’s going to be a big brother, and stop the apocalypse.

They’re about the same level of responsibility.

 

* * *

 

“This is not right, Anna,” Castiel says to his former superior. Anna looks on unfazed. Jo is mixing a salt water injection for Alistair beyond that small window. Castiel can’t fathom how his sibling is able to watch.

“I could still kill you,” She says, with none of the warmth he knows she reserves for the humans. She is, in her own right, a chameleon, cold-blooded, a serpent trickster. He knows her threat is not idle, despite their former camaraderie. She has always been a piercing instrument of the Host, not the blunt object most seraphs are. Yet Castiel knows he can keep her at bay, he simply needs to stimulate her.

“Your orders to destroy me, were they given by the same superiors who would have Jo commit torture?”

“I don’t question my orders,” Anna replies with a trace of accusation.

“This is not the will of God.”

“Only four angels have ever spoken to God. Have you forgotten the meaning of faith? I trust my brothers, especially those above me who know his Word.”

“And Jo? What of her?” Anna’s gaze flickers away, and Castiel seizes on it. “You care about her. Despite what the Host thinks, that emotion, _caring_ , it is not weakness, Anna. It’s a sign that what you’re forcing her to do is wrong. Your orders are _wrong_.”

“I’m not like you,” Anna spits out, curling in on herself as if she had manifested wings, “I’m not _defective_ , Castiel.”

“You’re leading Jo down a dark path. The Host must know this, it becomes more obvious every day. If you don’t stop her now, who knows where it will lead?”

“I know more than you think,” Anna says and does not elaborate. “I will not rebel merely for the sake of one human girl.”

“There are things worth rebelling for, Anna. One human life may be the most important reason. Until you learn this, I despair to see you.” He’s left her in a flap of his newly returned wings. He contemplates much in the Himalayas: Heaven, Hell, Anna, Jo, Dean…

That’s when he decides to investigate the string of angels’ deaths for himself. He’s not expecting… well, he realizes, no one ever _expects_ betrayal.

 

* * *

 

She’s lying in the hospital bed, a tube bringing oxygen through her battered face. She’s in pain, but it’s the pain of recovery, bones and flesh knitting together, the kind of pain you’ll never find in Hell.

There’s a glimmer of red in the corner of her eye, and she doesn’t need to move to know Anna’s there. Why Anna’s there, Jo has no God damn clue, because she hasn’t said a word.

“I was drawing Devil’s Traps in my coloring books,” Jo mumbles, her voice thready and deep. “You dicks need to step up.”

“It was Uriel’s doing,” Anna tells her flatly. “He’s dead. Castiel…” She doesn’t go on, and Jo doesn’t care.

“Is it true?” She asks. It’s nothing she wants to know, but she needs to hear it from someone other than Alistair. “Did I break the first seal?”

Anna waits a long time before saying, “Yes.” Jo looks away, can’t bear to feel those soft eyes on her face. “When we discovered Lilith’s plan to raise Lucifer, my garrison, among others, was dispatched to retrieve you. We fought their legions, but…”

“You were too late.” Anna says nothing, and the two women breathe in the silence. Jo stews in her blame, feeling every cut she ever inflicted tearing into her. Her mother held out, she was the good one. How long had Ellen Harvelle refused? How could Jo betray her memory this way?

When Anna speaks it’s like a lullaby. “The Righteous Woman that begins it is the only one who can finish it. You have to stop it.” Jo finally looks at her, noting how pale she is, how dull her face, the flat, terse line of her pink lips.

“Stop Lucifer?” Anna doesn’t reply. “The apocalypse, what? If this is fate, then tell me what to do?”

“I may lead a garrison, but I don’t know the full plan. When they tell me, I’ll tell you.” The slender hand wraps around her wrist, enclosing the dull red mark it left before. “I stand with you, Jo Harvelle.”

But Jo can’t take her kindness, or whatever this is. She turns away, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I can’t do it, Anna. The Righteous Woman, it’s not me.” Her throat is tight, and she lets out the slightest whimper as Anna’s hand leaves hers. “Find someone else…”

 

* * *

 

It’s a weird feeling, coming out of a mass hallucination.

Really, Jo discovers and then passes along to the brothers, it wasn’t so much a hallucination as it was an angel named Zachariah creating a pocket of reality where they weren’t themselves.

Specifically they were Jo and Dean Smith and Sam Wesson.

Yeah, in this alternate reality, she’d been a high-powered executive with Dean as her trophy husband, while Sam worked I.T. at her company. If anything was weirder than seeing huge, buff Sam Winchester forced into little polos and khakis, it was being married to Dean.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about it once upon a time. When she was little she’d had a sort of crush on the older Winchester whenever John and Mary stopped by the Roadhouse. But as they grew up and Dean became an obnoxious teenager and Jo started noticing other girls, it became clear that nothing romantic was in their future.

Not that Mr. and Mrs. Smith were very romantic. Jo has a sneaking suspicion that they were really each other’s beards. It would certainly help explain the things she’d found in their night table. Otherwise… eugh.

At least she hadn’t lost her hunter’s instinct. None of them had. Which was Zachariah’s point, or so he said.

He could have made it without so much nightmare fuel. Dean and Jo can’t look each other in the eye for a whole week.

 

* * *

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jo snarls at this guy, Chuck. “Who the hell decided this half-naked chick on the cover was _me_?”

“It was my publisher’s idea,” Chuck quivers behind his ratty armchair. “Sales went up something like 33 percent with that cover.”

“This is not me!”

“Hey, at least you’re in them,” Sam says, flipping through a random volume of the extensive _Supernatural_ series, “I’m pretty much sidelined to either muscle, emotional support, or comic relief.”

“Yeah, and you’re not funny, dude,” Dean adds, looking at one of the newer books, _Heaven and Hell_. He’s checking the index and flipping to a chapter, then slamming it shut. “Oh come on, you had to put that in! Fucking privacy man!”

Chuck looks like he’s going to cry or piss himself. “The audience was dying for an explicitly queer romance, I—“ Sam is thoroughly distracted by that and staring at Dean, but Jo is not to be put off.

“You know what’s happening with Lilith.”

“I told you, you’re going to meet with Lilith and get offered a deal, which you’ll consummate in a passionate—“

“Is everyone gay but me?” Sam asks no one.

“That’s not happening!” Jo shouts, advancing on Chuck. “You’ve got to know how to stop it, so just—“ Her hands are about to grab his shirt when a clear voice breaks in.

“I wouldn’t do that.” All heads whip around to Anna. She’s standing in Chuck’s living room as if she belongs there. Chuck is blinking at her like she’s imaginary, and judging by the number of empties in his trash, Jo figures that’s not uncommon. To Chuck, Anna inclines her head. “It’s an honor to meet you, Chuck Shurley. I’m a great fan of your work.”

“His work?” Jo demands. “These dime-store harlequin shitter mags?” Behind her she thinks Chuck ruffles indignantly, but he isn’t near brave or drunk enough to refute her.

“I was referring to the Harvelle Gospels, as they will be known,” Anna tells them, touching a copy of _Lady Lazarus Rising_ reverently. At their confused silence, she must take pity on them. “You see, Chuck is a prophet of the Lord.”

 

* * *

 

Dean is at a loss. Even though they should be avoiding Chuck’s vision, Jo has apparently been persuaded to go off and meet Lilith. She even knocked Sam out when Dean ordered him to watch her. So he’s down two men (so to speak) and Lilith is bearing down on them and he’s ready to throw away his pride and call on the one angel he thinks they can trust.

_Cas, I ain’t the praying type, so if you can hear this, listen good. We’re in trouble, big trouble, and I need some help. Come on, please. I need you._

“So get your feathery—“

“You can stop there.” Dean whirls around to see Castiel standing by the ice machine. His inhumanness has never been more apparent: he stands as if pulled up by a string, and his posture is rigid, not at ease in his own skin. His eyes are still the same as that night in his Impala, shining impossibly deep blue even without light. Dean feels at once relief to see this version of Cas, and such an ache that the one he knew is gone.

“Jo’s about to do something real stupid,” Dean informs him. “I think she’s about to give it up to Lilith.” Cas accepts this with a nod. He still says nothing, so Dean adds more frustrated, “I need your help to either bring Jo back or gank this bitch.”

“The prophet predicted a union between Jo and Lilith?” Cas clarifies, and when Dean says yes, he responds, “Then I can’t intervene.”

Dean’s blood boils. “Can’t or won’t?” Silence. Dean shakes his head. “Man, you really lost touch once some bastard rang a bell. Have you forgotten everything about being human? This is _Jo_ , I won’t let her—“

“Dean,” Cas stops him, stepping into Dean’s personal space. He holds his breath, remembering the last time they were this close. It’s an effort to force away the image of the steamed windows. Cas watches him, expression falling soft, as if he too is recalling their time together. “No angel can interfere with divine prophesy,” Cas explains gently, “The prophet is too well protected. An archangel watches over him wherever he goes. If one were to endanger the prophet, the most fearsome wrath of heaven would rain down upon them.” He pauses, and their gaze shifts from nostalgic to pointed understanding.

“So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon…” He doesn’t need Cas’ confirmation.

“Just so you understand,” Cas glances down at Dean’s lips, and though they’re so close, there might as well be oceans between them, “Why I can’t help.”

 

* * *

 

They’re at the Roadhouse, licking their wounds after the encounter with Lilith. Jo doesn’t like to think about the taste of sulfur in her mouth, and how close she came to letting the world down. Bela’s demon killing knife was so close, but that inhuman strength holding her down…

There’s a ringing from the back room, and all four of the hunters freeze and stare. It’s the old Roadhouse main line. While Bobby had led the rebuilding effort, they’d only recently reconnected the power and phone lines. While most hunters used to call the Roadhouse for jobs or intel, word had gotten out the hunters’ hub was closed for business.

“Who the hell is that?” Dean asks first. Jo shakes her head and, being the only sensible one, moves to answer.

“Roadhouse,” She says impatiently. There’s a long silence.

“Uh,” A feminine voice clears her throat, “Is Ellen there?”

Jo bristles, the pain still raw even after 40 years. “No. Who is this?”

“I’m Ruby,” The woman says falteringly, “I’m, uh, I’m her daughter.”

 

* * *

 

So get this.

It turns out that Ellen had had a daughter. Before Bill Harvelle, she’d had a baby, and she gave her up for adoption. Jo had an older sister.

 _Had_ being the key point, Sam thinks as the three of them look in on a hospital room. The dark haired woman in the bed is very similar to the ghoul they’d met (and later killed), except emaciated and pale. They’d been lucky the ghoul had still been feeding off of her living body. Another few days, maybe a week… she would’ve been lost.

Sam had been taking care of Jo while Dean investigated the disappearances. Jo handled the whole thing as well as could be expected. She yelled in denial, she splashed Ruby with Holy Water, she cursed her dead mother’s name and then cried.

He isn’t sure what finding out that, _yes, Ruby really was Ellen’s daughter, but she’s in a coma unlikely to ever recover,_ is doing to Jo now. Her face is blank.

“Do you think the angels…?” Sam lets his question trail off as he meets his brother’s gaze. Dean doesn’t look optimistic.

“I’ll ask Anna,” Jo mutters. “But she’ll say no, or try and make me deal for it. I’m done making deals.” Neither brother says anything, and Jo heaves a sigh. “I’m going in,” She announces, and without waiting for anything from them she does just that. Sam and Dean move closer in the space she leaves behind, watching through the window as Jo approaches her sister.

“It would be kinder,” Dean rumbles quietly, like the Impala’s engine. “We could give her a hunter’s funeral. She was Ellen’s kid, after all.”

Sam watches Jo’s hand hover over her sister’s arm, fingers reaching out and then clenching into a fist. He’s seen Dean in hospitals before, even hunters use them once in a while. Sam’s not sure how he’d feel if it was him in that room, Dean practically dead. He’s definitely not sure how he’d feel if he found out he had another sibling.

He thinks positively. “The doctors have her on a banana bag. They’re getting her healthy. We don’t know for sure that she’ll never wake up.”

“Right,” Dean drawls, and Sam wants to punch him, the urge is so sudden. They don’t always agree, hardly ever, but Sam finds he’ll absolutely lay Dean out if he tries to take this hope from Jo.

“This could be Jo’s only living relative,” Sam bites out.

“And what are we, chopped liver?” Dean points right in Sam’s face, and Sam swats him away. “Whatever happened to ‘family don’t end in blood’, huh? She’s got us, we’re not going to let anything happen to her.”

“Yeah,” Jo’s harsh tone breaks through their argument, “Who needs a sister when I’ve got two pansies on my ass 24/7.” Sam looks her over: there’s no tears on her cheeks, no redness, nothing to say she’s been broken. He can feel it though. Grief’s been hanging off of her for years, like the black shroud she never got a chance to wear in mourning. She turns and walks away from them, speaking loudly so they know to follow, as if they’d do anything else by now. “Hunt’s over, we won, now let’s get the fuck out of here.”

 

* * *

 

Dean’s fishing on the lake where John and Mary took him and Sam every summer. They’re about two hours out from the Roadhouse, so he knows Ellen will bring Jo over soon. It’s peaceful now, sitting on the jetty, alone but knowing his loved ones are close.

“Hello Dean,” says Cas as he appears by his side. Dean glances over. It’s not the Cas he met in Pontiac, Illinois, loose-limbed and sheepish. It’s a shame, but he’ll roll with it.

“Cas,” Dean smiles up at him, “Pull up a plank.” He eyes the jetty skeptically, but eventually wrangles himself down so his legs dangle off the end. He’s in the same clothes he was wearing when he was re-angelfied: the jeans and gray t-shirt Dean had lent him underneath his beige trenchcoat. They’d pulled that trenchcoat over themselves as their sweat cooled in the backseat. Dean’s yet to see him without it, actually.

“This is a dream,” Cas tells him, and Dean looks around and realizes he’s right.

“You’re in my head now, Cas?”

“Yes,” He answers calmly, “I have to tell you something. The Host have not pursued me closely since I stopped interfering with their plans. I don’t believe we’ll be eavesdropped on here.”

Dean lays down his fishing pole. “What’s so important you gotta sneak in my noggin to tell me?”

Cas turns to look at him, as solemn as he’s been ever since he said goodbye. “Something’s different about Anna. I know she received new orders because I sought to speak with her recently and found she was barred to me in Heaven. When we did speak she was… distracted. I would go so far as to say distraught.”

“She didn’t like her new orders?”

“The Anna I served under wouldn’t let ‘like’ have anything to do with it. I can only assume that something was revealed to her, something she doubts she and Jo can overcome.”

The way he says ‘she and Jo’ raises Dean’s hackles. As far as the humans see it, they’re a bigger team than that. They’re four hunters, Anna, and Castiel, if he’ll ever stick around. Of course Cas might not realize that, seeing as no one’s told him.

Dean should probably ask him to stick around.

He won’t. Exactly.

“What about you?” He asks, and Cas’ head tilts in confusion. “Where do you stand?”

“I stand where I have evidently always stood,” Cas replies, “With man.”

That should be enough, but it isn’t. Not for Dean.

“And your siblings? Sounds like they put you through the ringer.”

“I…” There’s beer in the cooler between them, and Cas reaches for one, turning it in his hands but not drinking. “I rebelled from the Heavenly Host. They regard me as an enemy.” He sighs heavily. “But they’re still my family. If Sam or Jo deemed your actions unforgivable, would it make you love them any less?”

Dean knows the answer and can’t fault him for it. There’s a lot he wants to say. _They don’t deserve your love. You should stay with us on Earth. Do you think about your last night on Earth? We could have that again, but—_

Cas sets down his beer and stands. “Tell Jo to be on her guard. I’m not sure what Anna has in store for her.”

Dean’s alone by the lake and not soon enough the dream dissolves.

 

* * *

 

Anna appears right after they’ve ganked a nest of demons. Jo’s still covered in blood, shivering from the adrenaline loss, and starving for no good reason. Dean and Sam are bickering as they load the weapons back in the Impala, something about a stupid risk Sam took and Dean not being happy about it. Jo is doing her best to ignore them, which is why she also misses the light flutter of wings.

“Jo.” She jumps, hand on her heart, and looks over at Anna.

“Jesus Christ,” Jo glares, “You trying to send me back down?”

Anna doesn’t react to the joke. She’s practically a statue, she reminds Jo of all the sad, painted plaster Virgin Marys in the South-West. Dean’s talk with Castiel comes back to mind. What could Anna have been told to make her doubt?

Jo draws closer and puts a hand on the Angel’s shoulder. Her fingers burn lightly. “Hey Anna, you okay?”

Her brown eyes bore into Jo, and though this creature has rebuilt her from the inside out, she’s never felt more exposed. “I received my orders,” Anna tells her flatly, “The seals are being broken too quickly for us to stop. We need to focus on the last seal. Without it, the other seals are moot.”

“Yeah?” Jo shifts, nerves ratcheting up. “What’s that, what do we have to do?”

Anna remains quiet for a very long time, so long Jo wants to badger her for an answer. She doesn’t though, and the two women, both far older than they look, continue to share breath.

When Anna speaks, it’s quiet and remorseful. “You need to kill Lilith.”

“But… I can’t. I tried, and I failed. How—“

“You will come with me,” Anna says, picking up steam. “The angels will train you, fill you with divine power. When the moment is right, they will put you where you need to be.” Her expression softens. “You don’t need to fear, Jo Harvelle. The end is almost here.”

She seems to be waiting, and Jo wonders if she should do more. Hold her hand, like Cas did, or even kiss her. But she is first and foremost a soldier, so Jo clenches her teeth and nods.

“Okay,” And the word is barely out of her mouth by the time the world finishes changing. She’s in an ornate room, the walls painted mint green, and Anna is nowhere to be seen.

“Miss Harvelle,” An oily voice catches her attention. It’s Zachariah. He’s beaming at her like a friendly Uncle, but he always manages to get too close to a skeevy call-me-Uncle vibe. “So glad you could join us. I’m sure Anna explained everything clearly.” Hesitantly Jo nods. “Good, good! I can see you’re still beat up from whatever Earth skirmish you came from.” Jo wants to slug his lights out and point out that ‘skirmish’ was trying to prevent a seal breaking, which _his_ people have given up on. “Why don’t you sit and relax before your training begins.” Zachariah gestures to the table she now sees is filled with burgers and beer. “Drink. Eat. We’ll be with you shortly.”

He’s gone, and as Jo eyes the burgers, her mouth waters.

 

* * *

 

Bobby is calling every hunter within three states of them, frantically yet gruffly demanding if they’d heard from Jo. Dean is pacing and muttering, and Sam knows he’s praying, but he must not be getting anything back because he keeps getting angrier and angrier.

Sam tries to stay logical. If this was any other hunt, they’d have to think three steps ahead. They wouldn’t focus on _where Jo is_ , they’d be asking _where will Jo go_?

None of them have said it out loud, but they know the seals are breaking faster and faster. All over the world are reports of demonic activity and miracles and plagues. It’s more than four American hunters can hope to keep up with.

The angels might agree. He knows Anna told Jo that angels were dying. Could they have decided these seals aren’t worth it?

Jump ahead? Stop the source? It’s worth a shot.

Holed up with his laptop, Sam does his thing. He searches for demonic activity, but there’s so much it’s impossible to sort through. Thinking of what they know of Lilith, he revises his search to infants going missing. Suddenly there’s a clear trail. Filling in the next stop is simple math and geography: Ilchester, Maryland.

On a hunch, Sam looks up the history of Ilchester, and his hunter’s instinct pays off: A massacre at St Mary’s Convent in 1972. A cursory look back further and he can find mysterious deaths in the area spanning hundreds of years. There’s something evil there, and if Lilith is headed that way…

That’s as far as his train of thought goes, because Dean bursts in the room, a wild look on his face.

“Cas just dropped in,” He says, throat scratchy, and Sam closes the laptop, “He’s not looking too good.”

 

* * *

 

Dean was lowballing it. Cas looks like Hell warmed over. He looks like he just fought his way out of a brawl tooth and nail, and to hear him tell it, that’s exactly what happened.

“Angels ambushed me,” Cas rasps out, drinking the water Bobby provides. He hasn’t needed water since leaving Earth. Dean doubts that’s a good sign. “I was almost expecting it, which is how I got away. I knew when the angels left the battlefields that something was wrong.”

“It’s the end, isn’t it?” Sam supplies, hovering in the back. “They’ve moved on to defending the last seal.”

“No,” The four look over to Anna. She’s cold, her mouth a determined line, and she has eyes only for Cas.

Dean puts himself between the angels, knowing it’s about as effective as a mouse trying to fend off a bear, but driven to anyway. “What’re you doing here? Came to finish the job?”

“What were your orders?” Cas asks her, ignoring Dean.

Anna inhales, and Dean suddenly realizes that none of the other angels breathe, only her and Cas. “The upper echelon of the Host has arranged the final seal to be broken. They want the apocalypse to happen, so that angels may once again be God’s favored children.”

A beat of silence, then uproar from the humans. Dean and Bobby are cursing and protesting, and Sam is rambling about how he ‘should have known, should have seen it’. The angels let them go until Anna slices her hand through the air, and all of their voices are gone. Dean sputters on air, his cheeks turning red as he strains to make a sound.

Her mute button must not extend to Cas, because he asks with his usual even tone, “What is the final seal?” They can all see Anna hesitate, and Cas says, “You told us this for a reason. If it was to gloat, then Zachariah would be with you, which means there’s still a chance to stop it. I know you care for humanity, and I know you care for your charge.” Dean thinks he might mean Jo, but they’re talking in riddles. Cas is pouring all the passion Dean saw in his human counterpart into gazing at Anna. “‘Big plans for that fish,’” He says deliberately, “Do you remember? We watched over them together. _This_ is our purpose.”

The world hangs still as Anna absorbs Cas’ speech. Dean isn’t sure which way it’s going to go. The way Cas speaks about humanity reminds Dean of that night he tried to cheer the guy up: _pie, rock and roll, sex_ … But in the weeks leading up to the apocalypse, he’s seen terrible things: _angry ghost children, witches, sirens, demons, angels_ … More than that he’s seen people, vengeful, frightened, wrecking havoc on Earth. On darker days, when he sees Bobby pop open one too many, or Sam nearly gets it on a hunt, or he catches Jo with her thousand-yard stare, he wonders if the people they save are really worth it.

But Castiel is an angel, and he thinks they are. He makes Dean want to believe it too.

“Lilith,” Anna murmurs, “The final seal is Lilith.”

“If she breaks—“

“No,” The angel speaks over him, “Lilith _is_ the seal.” Various expressions of realization and horror cross their faces. “Her death breaks the final seal, raising Lucifer from the Cage. The angels are preparing Jo to kill her and in doing so bring about the apocalypse.”

Sam tries to speak, gesturing to his throat, and Anna releases their voices with a lazy wave. “Preparing how?”

“The consumption of heavenly food or drink can imbibe a human with grace,” She explains, “Turning Jo into a temporary instrument at the will of Heaven.”

“Persephone,” Sam breathes as Dean mutters, “Don’t drink the damn water.”

Bobby grumbles out, “How do we—“

“I left Jo with Zachariah, I don’t know her whereabouts now. All I know is she hasn’t completed her task.” Her hand moves to her heart. “I would feel it.”

“The prophet,” Castiel says quietly, drawing everyone’s attention, “Would be able to tell us Jo’s location. It would also have the benefit of distracting the Host.”

There’s something in how he says ‘distract’ that puts Dean on edge. Anna too because she strides forward, past Dean, to pull Cas to his feet. The two siblings hold each others’ gaze, and it’s sort of like a mirror reflecting a mirror. Those angel stares can go on and on, but there’s something charged about this, like a message is actually getting through that endless corridor.

Anna tells him, “I never wanted—“

“I know,” Cas says. She reaches her hand to his cheek but he pulls back. “You’ll need your grace for—“

“Let me,” says Anna as she cradles his face tenderly. A white glow exudes from where the angels touch, and the humans have to shut their eyes. In the next second when Dean anxiously checks back, Cas’s wounds are healed. They hold the pose for a long moment, then step back.

“Sam, Dean,” says Cas, sounding more like a warrior than Dean’s ever heard him, “You’ll come with us to Chuck’s house. Once he informs us where Jo is, we can plan our attack.”

“Our arrival will not go unnoticed,” Anna adds, “We will likely have only minutes. You must make Chuck talk, fast.”

"I s'pose I'll start repenting my sins here then," Bobby snarks from the back. It's nearly enough to make Dean smile.

"Good idea," says Anna, missing the sarcasm, and Dean really does snicker.

 

* * *

 

“St. Mary’s,” Dean reads from the strewn papers in the prophet’s kitchen.

“Of course!” Sam exclaims. “The convent in Maryland! They’re there now?”

“Yeah, but you’re not supposed to be there,” The prophet tells them, but Anna thinks he may be more put out about the lost opportunity of 20 prostitutes. She is not disillusioned by the prophet (she recalls Luke), but as she said, they have mere minutes and denial is not helpful.

“Yeah, well, we’re making it up as we go,” Castiel replies, earning a fleeting look of awe from Dean.

As she thought, the house begins to shake, and divine light streams through the windows. The prophet bemoans this, but Anna shares a glance with Castiel. He nods.

“The archangel is here,” Anna shouts over the growing noise. Sam and Dean meet her eyes, and she is proud to see very little fear. They are good men, Jo’s friends. She is content to die for them, and Jo. “We will hold him off!”

“We’ll hold them _all_ off,” Castiel bellows with her, his attention fixed on the elder brother. There is a connection there, a bond, that Anna can only imagine the depth of. Her brother has always been devoted to humanity, yes, but Anna knows seeing them that he is now devoted to one human, completely and utterly wrecked by it.

She thinks of Jo, and all that she is giving up for her, and knows she soon will be too.

“Stop Jo!” Anna tells, no, _implores_ them. As she looks at the humans, she hopes the apology is written on her vessel’s face. She is making up for her complicity now.

Castiel puts two fingers on both their heads and sends them to St. Mary’s Convent in Ilchester, Maryland. The archangel’s wrath increases, reaching deafening levels.

“Chuck,” Anna addresses the quivering prophet, “You may want to leave the room. I believe this will get messy.”

Castiel returns to her side, and Anna wordlessly offers her hand. He accepts, and they ready themselves for the last fight of their lives, brothers in arms once more.

 

* * *

 

For too long Jo has felt like the people she tortured in Hell have been hanging around her neck, like the biggest, tackiest necklace.

She can’t remember the last time she felt _good_. The Righteous Woman, but until this moment the label never fit. Now, striding through the doors of the old chapel, Jo is filled with _glorious purpose_.

Lilith has her minions around the altar, but Jo has her demon killing knife and enochian exorcisms on her side. She has never felt stronger, looking at Lilith over the pile of bodies she’s created, dead and empty hosts.

Outside the doors (who closed the doors? Jo hadn’t noticed…) she can hear banging and muffled voices. Dean and Sam?

“Men,” Lilith scoffs, drawing Jo’s attention back, “They always want the glory, don’t they? You and I, we’re the same kind of woman. Ambitious. Stone-cold. Bloodthirsty.” She smiles when she says it, and Jo knows that she _knows_. What Jo did in the Pit, Lilith knows.

She bears down on the demon, hand to hand combat, her weapon twisted just out of reach. Lilith is as strong as she remembers from the motel room. Her freakishly pale eyes taunt Jo with each blow she deflects.

“Do you know why you and your bitch mother were chosen?” Lilith asks, landing a nasty cross on Jo’s face. Jo snarls through the blood in her mouth. “You are daughters of Eve, through the line of Cain. You think I’m evil?” The demon laughed, “Your ancestors _invented_ sin!” Her distraction is enough, and Jo overpowers her, blade pressed beneath her chin. It shuts her up, but the grin doesn’t leave her face.

Outside Jo can hear Sam and Dean battering down the door and pleading with her. Her hand shakes, the first time since picking up the knife.

“You were supposed to make up for Eve’s weakness,” Lilith whispers, louder somehow than any of the shouting. “Look how that played out. I guess you haven’t just let down dear dead mommy, but every woman on your God forsaken planet.”

“Shut up!” Jo snaps. She wants to close her eyes and _think_ but she can’t let her guard down. She tightens her grip on the knife. It’s all she knows. All she is.

“Go on, little girl,” Lilith goads, “It’s your birthright. _Take it!_ ”

Jo slits her throat.

The world breaks.

 

* * *

 

_It happens like this:_

 

Jo, Sam, and Dean appear on a plane as the explosion rocks beneath them.

Anna and Castiel hover in the ether before reforming at opposite ends of the Earth. Neither knows who or what resurrected them. They’re officially renegades from the Heavenly Host.

 

_It happens like this:_

 

“So what do we do now?” Jo Harvelle asks her family: an old worn out hunter, two ridiculously tall brothers, and two former Angels of the Lord.

“We keep you from saying yes to Michael,” Anna supplies, firm with conviction, “We beat the devil, and stop the apocalypse.”

“The family business,” Sam seconds. Bobby shakes his head but can’t deny it.

Dean lifts his beer, meeting Castiel’s eyes from across the room, “Team Free Will.”

 

_It happens like this:_

 

Ruby says yes, and Lucifer pulls the tube from her throat and sits up.

No one in that hospital is left alive.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told some friends that I was writing a Supernatural Fic. They all groaned and protested. Then I told them it was an AU with Jo as the main character. Eventually they settled down.
> 
> I like the prospect of Alternate Universes in which certain couples will always come together, no matter how much you change. Even though the Harvelles are shafted by destiny, Jo still has the best support system a hunter could have. And the Winchesters had more time to be a happy family, so Dean was a mommy's boy and Sam had a supportive father, and their issues are not nearly as bad. Castiel was always going to rebel, we know that now from Naomi, so I just gave him a different reason and moved up the timeline.


	2. 2009-2010

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer walks the Earth. Team Free Will, all 5 (occasionally 6) of them are barely keeping it together. Jo is the Michael Sword, destined to say yes to the Archangel, and meet Lucifer on the battlefield, thus dooming the Earth to pain, bloodshed, and torment.
> 
> She's gonna try not to do that.

 

The first thing Castiel does when he sees the Harvelle girl and the Winchesters again is etch Enochian sigils onto their bones.

“Oof,” All three humans huff as they rub their ribs. Sam, the tallest human Castiel has ever met, grins at him and says, “Gee, Cas, and I gave you my blessing.” He’s not exactly sure what that means, and so he ignores it.

His gaze is naturally drawn to Dean as he asks, “Are you three alright?”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean replies, quirking his lips in a way Castiel finds pleasing, “We’re dandy, but what was with that whammy you did on our insides?”

Castiel explains the Enochian sigils’ purpose, to shield them from the Host. An expression of alarm crosses Jo’s face.

“All angels, well what about—“ Her cell phone rings, and she curses as she answers. The voice through the speakers distract her, “Anna? Where are you, you left… We’re at the Roadhouse now. Castiel is here but—“ The humans jump when Anna lands, something that privately amuses Castiel. Jo glares at her, hanging up her phone. “And now you’re here.”

“I won’t be long,” Anna promises, though looking at Jo he thinks this is not the assurance she needs. “I sensed when you disappeared from view.”

“My doing,” Castiel tells her, and she nods.

“Smart move. I have already had to kill two of our brothers this morning.”

Castiel is naturally distressed. “What?”

“We are not merely Fallen, Castiel,” Anna says sharply, and he is reminded of the days he would fall in line behind her, “We are enemies of the Host. We will be hunted every day and night, either to be killed or reprogrammed.” She knows exactly how to send Castiel hurtling into his most painful memories. He will not go back to the white room. He will take death first.

“The two of us together will attract attention,” Castiel says, “Our grace—“

“I agree, there will be too many angels searching, we must attempt to keep our distance.”

“Sheesh,” Dean mutters, “They’re like two robots.”

Dean’s comment was unfair, as Castiel felt deep grief for his sister. He’d been cut off from Heaven before, this was new for her. Without his assistance, he was worried how she would be affected.

“Anna,” Jo said, an intense sadness in her eyes, “I’m sorry.”

Anna meets her charge’s gaze, and Castiel can see her emotions in her grace clear as day, but wonders what the humans can discern. “No, Jo. I am sorry. I was following orders even after I stopped believing in them. If anyone is guilty—“

“You two can play the blame game all damn day if you like,” Bobby Singer walks out from behind the bar, joining them for the first time. “Or you can suck it up and fix this mess.”

Anna nods. “I intend to.” Looking at Jo, she declares, “You won’t kill Lucifer. It’s stupid.” Sam and Dean jump to defend their half-formed plan, but Castiel knows Anna speaks the truth. They recall how difficult it was merely trapping him. “I am going to find the only one capable of solving this and banishing Lucifer once more.”

Suspecting her idea, Castiel is uneasy, and this is only confirmed once Jo asks, “Don’t keep it to yourself, princess. Who?”

Anna smiles blissfully as she says, “God.”

 

* * *

 

Happiness, Dean has found, never lasts for him.

Growing up, all Dean wanted was to be included on his parents’ hunts. John and Mary humored him, taught him and Sammy how to shoot, how to ward off demons, what methods worked best on what monsters. But every time they dropped him and Sammy at the Roadhouse, and Dean begged to come along, Mary always kissed his forehead and promised, ‘When you’re older.’

When Dean was 17, he got the hint. They were never going to be a hunter family like Ellen and Jo, working together because that was all they had. Maybe his parents hadn’t wanted to be looking out for him every second. Maybe they thought Dean would be a liability. Who knows? So, when he and Sammy were dropped off at the Roadhouse, Dean started going on hunts with the older guys.

Sammy left the family for college, but Dean left first. Or maybe it was his parents fault for abandoning them every time a demon or a vampire showed its ugly mug.

One thing was his fault though. Mary and John were killed by a demon named Azazel and Dean hadn’t been anywhere near them.

Yeah, so Dean sort of grew up in an endless cycle of leaving before you got left.

This shouldn’t surprise him so much.

“I thought I could do it,” Jo tells them, shoulders slumped beneath the green jacket Dean had given her. He and Sam are by the Impala, and he’s not sure where Cas is, he’d left to check on Rufus. They’re only a little ways off from the town where everyone thought they were demons. Where War, the first Horseman of the Apocalypse, had made his appearance.

“But…” Dean flounders, “We won.”

Jo levels a look at him, and even though she’s always been younger, he feels like a child. “I started the Apocalypse. I broke the first seal, and the last, and Lucifer is on Earth because of me. People are going to die, and it’s my fault.”

“We don’t blame you,” Sam says, which, a very guilty part of Dean thinks is not true, “Both of those times you weren’t yourself.”

Jo shakes her head, not really hearing them. “I need to get away.” At their matching expressions of alarm, she assures them, “I’m not going to say yes to Michael. I just… I need to be myself again. I need to hunt. Maybe if I can save people for a while, I won’t feel so…” She doesn’t finish, doesn’t need to.

Dean always has more to say than he knows how to get out. _How long is ‘a while’? You’ll keep your phone on? What if I need you? I’m sorry, sorry I can’t look at you and forget what you did. I’ll forgive you though, I know I will, because we’re family. Please, for once in my life, won’t someone stay with me?_

Instead all he says is, “Be careful.” He opens his arms, and Jo lurches into him, hugging him tightly. He wonders if she knows all the things he can’t say. Dean pats her hard on the back and they break apart, sniffling.

She moves to hug Sammy the same way, but he says, “I’ll come with you.”

Both Jo and Dean stare at him in shock.

“I appreciate the offer, but I can take care of myself.”

“We don’t hunt alone, remember?” Sam says, and Jo grudgingly nods. “Besides, you know me. I can be a silent partner. No judgement, no talking you out of anything.” He shrugs with that shy smile he perfected as a teenager. “Muscle and emotional support, that’s me.”

Jo is starting to smile too, Sam has that effect. “And comic relief,” She adds, punching him lightly.

Dean is watching his family leave him behind for the hundredth time. Only this time it’s Sammy and Jo, the two little kids he practically raised and thought could never do this to him, going off in a stolen car and not looking back.

He’s alone. Big fucking surprise.

 

* * *

 

“Can’t you see-ee-ee,” Jo belts out from the driver’s seat along with the latest teen pop star, “You belong with me-ee-ee!” If Dean were here he’d be plugging his ears and making snide comments. If nothing else, Sam is glad they got away just for that.

He’d had doubts. Breaking up the team was one thing, but ignoring the angel/demon/Lucifer thing in favor of smaller hunts felt like a step back.

He meant what he told her, he’s not going to try and convince her of anything. He knows how it feels to need time for yourself. Guiltily, he thinks maybe he wanted some space from Dean. It’s a lot easier living on the road with Jo, less arguments, they’re not in each other’s pockets 24/7.

Looking at her he thinks she was right. Jo needs this. She needs to feel useful to people, _human_ people. They’ve already ganked shapeshifters, ghosts, a werewolf, and they were just coming off a rugaru hunt. Jo was relentless and Sam did his best to keep up, finding a new case as soon as they’d finished.

He wonders how many people they have to save to make up for the Apocalypse.

Sam may have been feeling worn out, but Jo certainly sounded happy, as she sang the final lines of the pop song.

Valiantly he asks, “Can we—“

“You know the rules: driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole.”

The next song is by All-American Rejects. Sam can get behind that.

 

* * *

 

Dean is humming quietly, as if Sam might walk in and tease him, while he folds his laundry in the motel bathroom. Typical hunter bathtub, soap, and hair dryer laundry, but he doesn’t even get to do that most of the time.

“I don’t wanna lose your love, toni-ii-ght,” He sings, “I just wanna use your love, toni-ii—“

“Whose love?”

Dean jumps, the clean t-shirt goes flying into a crumpled heap on the wet floor. Irritated and embarrassed, Dean turns and accidentally brushes up against Cas. The breach of personal speech would be one thing, but Cas has got this little smirk, like he _knew_ he was too close, like he knew that opening one-liner would get Dean flustered. Dean should tell him to move away, but _damn_ , he missed being alone with Cas, even if it was only in his dreams.

Shit, he has to say something, not just stand there like an idiot.

Fight fire with fire. “Where’ve you been,” Dean murmurs, smirking right back.

“I was communing with Anna,” He says, and Dean feels a sliver of jealousy.

“I thought you two had to keep away from each other.”

“We do. Our conversations must be brief. She requires my help.”

“Help searching for the big man?” Dean scoffs, and this has the side effect of Cas taking a step back. He can’t help mouthing off. “You think ganking Lucifer is a dumb plan? If God is even still around, he hasn’t cared enough to intervene so far.”

“Dean, I understand and share your concerns.” Dean shuts his mouth so hard his teeth click. “However, I believe there is still a chance her search could prove fruitful. It will keep her mobile and out of the hands of the angels at the very least.”

He’s tired of standing in the shitty bathroom, so Dean hefts his laundry and strides past him into the motel room. Cas follows and for the first time notices the single bed. Ignoring his inquisitive look, Dean starts packing his laundry into his duffel.

“Where is Sam?”

“With Jo.”

“Where is Jo?”

“Hell if I know.” Dean sighs, his hands stilling. He’s being bitchy. “Jo and Sam are hunting on their own for a little while.” There’s a heavy silence from Cas. “We’ll meet up again, it’s not a big deal.”

“She does know Heaven and Hell will be pressing on her to accept Michael. This is not something she can outrun.”

Dean bites his lip to keep from snapping. He hates Jo’s decision, and Sam’s, but he’ll defend her motives to anyone. Except Cas is here, and Dean doesn’t want to drive him away too.

“Anyway, what did Anna need from you?”

“There is an archangel’s vessel in Maine. There’s a chance that the archangel could tell us of God’s location if we could trap and interrogate him.”

He hums, “Sounds dangerous.”

“If a single thing goes wrong, I will be dead.” Dean freezes.

He’d already thought he lost Cas this month, he’s not going through that again.

“Then why the Hell are you going? You’re not even convinced God’s still kicking.”

“The archangel in question is Raphael,” Cas tells him, and there’s a serious note in his voice that makes Dean turn around. “He happens to be the one who killed me. I want him to see me alive.”

Castiel, Dean decides, is a vindictive sonuvabitch.

“Well,” He claps the angel on the shoulder, “Let’s get our asses to Maine.”

 

* * *

 

It’s his second last night on Earth, and Dean says, “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” in between kissing him. Castiel remembers the phrase as being a popular joke, but the humor is lost.

Everything is different as an angel. If he were to attempt to put it into words, he’d say it’s like watching a film consisting of his own experiences. With a film you can see and hear, but you’re missing smell, taste, feeling. He remembers being swept up in films, sweating in anticipation or shedding tears, but the emotions aren’t the same as living it yourself.

Castiel has always experienced profound emotion, more so than his siblings. It is not enough to make up for the lack of human sensation.

He and Dean have sex. Castiel isn’t sure where to put his hands, he becomes preoccupied with all the fluids involved, and he doesn’t make a sound. He knows Dean is doing his best, and Castiel does enjoy himself immensely. Regardless, their last sexual encounter looms in Castiel’s memory because he recalls how good it can be.

He remembers being awash in ecstasy as Dean’s body swayed and pushed against his. Cas had gasped when Dean freed his cock from his jeans, whispered, “Yes, please…” He’d hit his head on the Impala’s door from thrashing his head as his orgasm overtook him and hadn’t even felt it until the next morning.

Tonight Dean takes them both in hand and Castiel can feel his atoms buzzing alongside his own.

Not for the first time since retrieving his grace, Castiel wishes he was human. He can’t be though, there are more important things than his own desires. As an angel he is useful. He would rather keep Dean alive than happy.

“You okay?” Dean asks as they’re laying in the dark. They aren’t touching very much. Castiel wants to reach over and run his fingers through Dean’s short hair. Like his other wants, he keeps it to himself.

“Yes,” Castiel tells him softly, “I am okay.”

 

* * *

 

It’s a cliche to say ‘it all happened so fast’ but there’s no other way to explain it.

Jo and Sam were settling into their new motel room, and while Jo had been about to change, Sam went to make an ice run. Her knuckles were bruised from the last hunt.

Next thing she knows Zachariah is in her face, she’s itching for her knife so she can make a banishing sigil, and then he spews some shit about Michael and learning her lesson. He snaps his fingers before she can get the knife.

One thing leads to another, it’s 2014, Kansas City is in ruins, and the Croatoan Virus has wiped out most of humanity. Piecing things together from the shambles of the Roadhouse, Jo’s stalking around Camp Chitaugua in the dead of night. Some bitch gets the jump on her and things go dark.

Now Jo’s staring herself in the face. It’s not a metaphor.

“What’s something only we would know?” Her future self demands after Jo’s lengthy explanation.

“The first girl we ever ate out was Rhonda Hurley,” Jo says immediately, “Two weeks after she and Dean broke up. We never told him because we didn’t want him to feel bad.”

Future Jo gets this wistful smile. “Especially since it took him five weeks to find a rebound.” The moment passes and her expression gets hard. “I guess the next question is, how much’ve you missed?”

“When I left things, it was 2009, and we didn’t have any Croats.”

“But Lucifer…?”

“Up and kicking, far as I know.” Future Jo sighed, and Jo leapt to the questions. “Lucifer did this, I get that. He’s tanked the planet. What happened with Michael?”

“There was a showdown in Detroit. Lotta bad stuff went down. When the dust settled, Michael and the angels peaced out, and Lucifer’s still going strong.”

“Jesus,” Jo swipes a hand down her face, “Okay. Where is everyone? Sam, Dean—“ Future Jo grits her teeth, and Jo stops. She knows that face like the back of her… well, like her own face. “Dean. Where is he?”

“Sam’s around somewhere,” Future Jo says, “Maybe he should—“

“Tell me. Now.”

“Shit, was I really this annoying?” Jo glares herself into submission. Future Jo has to look away as she murmurs, “He didn’t make it.”

It’s like walking backwards down a dark tunnel. Everything just fades away. Dean, practically her big brother, can’t be _dead_.

This isn’t real, Jo thinks, it’s one of Zachariah’s tricks.

“Couldn’t one of the angels do something? What about Anna?”

“Didn’t I just fucking tell you?” Future Jo shouts, suddenly enraged. “Anna left with the angels! We’re alone down here, couple dozen-thou humans, billions of Croats, and good ol’ Lucy! Welcome to the end, sweetheart, it’s all our fault!”

 

* * *

 

Jo hates herself more than usual.

She’s sullen as she rides in Cas’ jeep. Her future self is up the convoy with Sam, and she hopes if she glares hard enough she can blow out their tire.

“I take it you are not pleased with this version of events,” Cas says blithely from the drivers’ seat.

“No kidding,” She grumbles, “I’m a total bitch, Anna deserted, Sammy is a stone-cold soldier, you’re a fucking hippie…” She stops herself before she can mention Dean, but his ghost still sits between them. So to speak.

“Anna was captured,” Cas tells her, “Her memories were ‘messed with’,” God, even high the guy makes every colloquialism clunky, “Her departure was not her fault.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

Cas shrugs, movements all loose from the heroin he’d jokingly offered her earlier. “Dean was dead. I didn’t see the point in doing much of anything.” Jo stares at him, feeling sicker with every bump in the road. It’s so wrong to hear a heavy declaration like that thrown out so casually. It almost throws her off the scent.

“You hate me,” At his tilted head, she adds, “Future me. I’m not blind or deaf, you’re constantly undermining her, _me_ , whatever. Why?”

He stays silent, catching up to the convoy. They’d lagged behind. Jo knows no one would wait for them.

Finally he asks, “Did my current Jo attempt to persuade you to say yes?”

Jo shudders, remembering, _“There’re some things worth dying for, and some things worth obliterating half the planet for, and honey this is both!”_

“Yeah,” she looks at him skeptically, “You gonna have another go?”

Another long silence. “Zachariah showed you this for a reason. We know his motives, he needs you to be the Michael Sword. That must mean that this future can be prevented by your choices, particularly the big one. I can’t tell you if this is inevitable, the virus I mean, but I can tell you one thing.” He meets Jo’s eyes, and there’s no trace of heroin or grace, just a desperate human soul. “If you said yes, Dean might still be alive.”

 

* * *

 

“Jo,” Her sister’s face splits into a smile, but Jo is more preoccupied with her future self’s lifeless head crushed under her sister’s foot, “This is a surprise.”

“Ruby—“

“Lucifer,” Her sister corrects, her head tilting, sort of like Anna and Cas do when they’re confused, but also wildly more intimidating. “Have we not met yet in your timeline? In that case this must be quite a shock.”

Jo breathes out, letting her rage and fear flow with it. “You gonna ice me too?”

Ruby, no, _Lucifer_ looks down at the broken body of her older self, then back up. “Do you really think I need to at this point?”

“You’re trying to exterminate all humans, right. The Croatoan virus, nice throwback.”

“Honestly,” Lucifer tells her with a smile too charming to be real, “I don’t give a crap about humans.” Jo opens her mouth to argue but Lucifer beats her to it. “Oh I know what you’ll say, ‘But Lucy, they’re the reason you fell!’ Wrong! I fell because I loved my Father more than you hairless apes and refused to pretend the sun shone out your asses. But I won’t lose sleep over whether you live or die. Not that I ever sleep, but, you understand.”

“Then what’s your endgame?”

Lucifer loses her smile, exuding loss. “My siblings have left. I am alone and without purpose.” Her gaze is so intent it may as well burn holes. “I would destroy all of Creation if it would bring Michael to me. He owes me my retribution.”

Jo shakes her head, though it makes her dizzy. She might puke. “I don’t buy it. All this… sympathy for the devil, ‘why won’t my brother play with me’ posturing _bullshit_.”

There’s a long pause, and then Lucifer laughs. “Oh Jo, I’ve forgotten how funny you are. You’re so lucky you’re starting out on the journey, because we had some wild times.” She lets her gaze linger as she starts to turn away. “I’ll be seeing you soon.” Lucifer begins to walk, to where, who knows, but Jo can’t, she just can’t let her leave without finding out one last thing.

“Why Ruby?” Jo calls after her, “She was sick, she was—“

“Trapped,” Lucifer interrupts, turning back, “And I could relate. I was hardly out of my Cage. I offered her freedom, the chance to walk again, see, and live forever. Ruby accepted.” She pats herself down, the white suit that clings to her figure, as if noticing her body for the first time. “She is my true vessel, a Harvelle, one betrayed by her own kind and left to rot. It doesn’t matter when you meet me, because taking her was my first victory.” Lucifer gestures around the garden. “And no matter what you do to change things, the little details,” She glances down and drags Jo’s gaze back to her own corpse, “We always end up here.” They lock eyes again, and Lucifer bears her teeth in a grin. “See you in five years, Jo.”

There’s a tug in her gut, and Jo is gone.

 

* * *

 

Dean gets the call while he’s driving with Cas in the passenger seat. The angel hadn’t really known what to do with himself after they threatened Raphael, so Dean invited him to tag along. It was wrapped in, ‘Never hunt alone, that’s rule one,’ but Dean thinks Cas knew what he meant. Sort of.

“Hand me that,” Dean asks, nodding to the phone in the cupholder.

“Shouldn’t I answer it? If I recall correctly it is dangerous to talk and drive.”

“Just…” Dean hold out his hand, and Cas passes it over. “Yeah,” He answers.

“It’s Jo,” His hand spasms around the wheel, “We’re about five miles out from Kansas City, where’s the closest we can meet you?”

He does some quick geography in his head and gives her a middle point. They hang up on things unsaid. He turns the car around.

Quietly from the passenger seat, Castiel says, “I suppose you won’t be alone anymore.”

Dean swallows, shifting his grip. He keeps his eyes on the road. His palms are sweaty. Damn it, he can fire a shotgun without breaking a sweat, but asking for what he wants makes him clammy.

Maybe this time what he wishes will come true.

“Cas, you know you don’t have to poof away, right? I know you and Anna can’t travel together, so why don’t you travel with us?” Cas doesn’t say anything, so in his panic, Dean adds, “You’d be good to have on hunts, you know, with all that knowledge and the powers. It’s probably not as interesting as Heaven stuff, but… you’d be with me. And Sam, and Jo, so, y’know, friends.” He taps out an anxious rhythm on the wheel. “Well, what do you say?” Dean looks over.

Castiel is gone.

 

* * *

 

Jo hasn’t been thinking about Anna. Much.

Okay, so she might wonder what the angel is up to every now and then. But she’s not _Dean_ , she’s not _pining_. Anna can wear her pretty little wings out looking for God all she wants, Jo doesn’t give a shit.

When Anna shows up in their motel room, it’s shock that makes her heart skip a beat.

“Anna,” She says, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Anna blinks at her. “I’m here about the boy.”

“What, Jesse?” Jo moves past her to the crappy coffee maker. It’s hard to look at Anna without noticing the little things. She’s completely unchanged from the last time they saw each other, before they beat War. Red hair, pale skin, bright brown eyes. Jo busies herself making coffee so her hands won’t itch to touch. “We thought it sounded like a trickster at first, but all the incidents are connected to Jesse. Sam and Dean went over to meet his birth mother, they’ll be checking in soon.”

“She will tell them she was possessed by a demon when the boy was conceived,” Anna says, and Jo’s shoulders tense.

“You know a lot about it.”

“Jesse Turner is the antichrist. Half human, half demon, he would be a powerful tool for Lucifer’s forces.” Jo watches her coffee boil. Anna speaks more softly. “In order to ensure he does not bring about great evil, we should eliminate him.”

Involuntarily, Jo clenches her hands up. She pushes off the desk, turning to glare at the angel.

“When are you gonna learn?” Jo demands. “This isn’t one of your holy wars. This isn’t angels versus demons. People are getting caught in the crossfire. I’m not going to murder a little kid because it’s _strategic_ , alright?”

“ _People_ make demon deals every day,” Anna replies, and Jo can feel her anger even if it isn’t in her voice. “Humans have always been involved in this war, as collateral damage or as players. I want humans to have free reign of this Earth to destroy as they will, but that won’t happen if Lucifer learns of Jesse’s immense potential.” Anna tilts her neck and takes a step forward. Jo refuses to acknowledge the way she moves forward, instead of backing away. “If you won’t take action, I will.” Then she’s off, and Jo is racing out the room to catch up.

The coffee stays cold.

 

* * *

 

 _So no one told you life was gonna be this way…  
_ _CLAP CLAP CLAP!_

 

* * *

 

“Oh my god,” Dean mutters, as she and Sam stare at their new surroundings, “This is Dr. Sexy’s hospital. We’re in _Dr. Sexy, M.D._!”

“Why am I not surprised?” Jo snarks back.

“Hey,” Dean points, “Don’t forget, I caught you watching _the L Word_.”

“Can we stop this very literal game of Gay Chicken and focus,” Sam interrupts. “Why are we in a fictional hospital? We were just outside the warehouse—“

“Oh my god,” Dean hisses, slapping Jo’s arm, “It’s him, it’s Dr. Sexy.” A rugged Patrick Dempsey type saunters down the hallway, looking straight at Sam and Dean.

“Doctor,” He nods to Sam, and again to Dean, “Doctor.” Taking note of Jo, he adds, “I see you’ve met your latest patient.”

Jo’s naturally alarmed by that, but Dean is blushing at the floor, and it’s pathetic enough to distract her. “Doctor…” His demeanor changes and suddenly Dean’s got Dr. Sexy pinned to the wall.

“Whoa there tiger,” Jo says, sharing a surprised glance with Sam.

“This isn’t Dr. Sexy,” Dean growls, “He’s missing the trademark sexy cowboy boots.” There’s an awkward silence, and he mutters, “Shut up.”

The fake Dr. Sexy starts to laugh, and before their eyes he transforms into a familiar face.

“The Trickster! But we ganked you years ago!”

“Did you, My Fair Jo?” The Trickster asks, then shrugs. “Hm, I must’ve forgot, it’s been a busy few years.” He smirks at Jo, and god is he insufferable. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“What do you want?” Dean demands, tightening his grip on the shorter man. They all know it’s a futile gesture, the Trickster can get out whenever he wants.

“You three humans have been upsetting the natural order,” The Trickster says, and there’s a hint of wrath there that reminds them he is a demigod. “I’m here to knock a little sense into you and get you back on script.”

Immediately Jo tells him, “I’m not saying yes. Do whatever you want to us, you won’t force me into it.”

“Oh good line, that’ll make the clip show.” The Trickster grins, and in an instant he’s out of Dean’s hold and a couple feet away. “Let’s see how long you can take TV Land. Better figure out your parts quick, because I think Jo’s heart’s about to break.” He waggles his eyebrows and fades out.

The three are left looking at each other helplessly. “What,” Jo begins, but it’s cut off by a gasp as she reaches for her chest. Her heart’s racing so hard it hurts. She can’t get breath. She falls to the floor and the brothers start yelling.

The last thing she hears before passing out is Sam saying, “I guess there’s a first time for everything, even heart surgery.”

 

* * *

 

 _Your job’s a joke, you’re broke,  
_ _Sam’s lover’s DOA!_

 

* * *

 

The gameshow’s annoying, especially since Jo’s supposed to be Vanna White. Poor Sam though, the Trickster must have it out for his penis.

The climax is Castiel and Anna pushing through the doors, all angelic glory, as the crowd boos.

Jo shouts over the uproar. “How did you—“

“When I failed to reach you, I contacted Anna,” Castiel explains, eyes wild, “You’ve been missing for four days!”

“No meddling angels,” The Japanese host says, in perfect english.

“No!” Dean and Jo yell, but the two angels flicker out of sight.

“Actually,” The Trickster is suddenly lounging in the front row, “Those two have just as much to learn. Maybe we’ll catch them after the commercial break.”

 

* * *

 

 _Impala’s always stuck in second gear,  
_ _And it hasn’t been your day, or week, or month, or last forty years, but…_

 

* * *

 

The Trickster giggles to himself as he watches Sam Winchester explain the benefits of herpes cream.

He’s really obsessed with that guy’s genitals.

 

* * *

 

 _I’ll be there for you!_  
_When the sky starts to fall!_  
_I’ll be there for you!_  
_We’re nearly through with it all!_  
_I’ll be there for you!  
_ _Cause the end’s coming soo-oo-oon!_

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Deano!” Jo calls over from the kitchen of their improbably huge and lavish apartment. “Did you forget the beers?”

“Aww shoot, Jo, I did!” Dean replies, his legs up on their trendy coffee table. “Right after I forgot to get a normal job and make honest money.”

“Didn’t forget your alcoholism, I notice,” Jo jokes, to audience approval.

There’s a laugh track. Perfect.

“Maybe when Castiel and Anna get here,” Sam says from the other couch, “They’ll have remembered to bring some.”

Jo raises her brow at him as she settles next to him. “You really think that’ll work?”

“I think we have limited power to move the plot along. This feels like an ensemble sitcom, so…”

Sure enough there’s a cheery doorbell, and Dean hops up to get it.

“You made it!” He greets them in-character. He doesn’t flinch when he sees them, both looking tired and with new bruises dotting their visible skin. Casually, he ushers them in and asks, “Where’ve you been?”

“MMA cage match,” Castiel supplies, but Anna elbows him gently.

“He means, we’ve been fetching the beers.” Anna holds up a six pack, and the humans immediately dive into it. They’ve been through days of TV Land and they’re ready to give it up. The angels settle themselves onto the chairs, as the humans take the couches, and the five try to approach some semblance of banter.

“The more we fit the parts,” Anna says, flipping her hair, “The longer the Trickster will allow us to remain here.”

Castiel shakes his head at her in an exaggerated manner. “If it is a Trickster, Anna. Our grace has been bound, restricting our powers, and this manipulation of time and space goes beyond usual their tricks.”

“Yeah, you guys are a barrel of laughs,” Jo mutters under her breath, but the laugh track picks up anyway.

Sam waits for the audience to die down. “So how do we get out of here? Last time we thought we killed him he must’ve faked it. Is a wooden stake really gonna cut it?”

“It’s the best we got,” Dean says. “He isn’t too hard to find, we know he’s got a tooth sweeter than Meg Ryan.”

“He wants you to say yes,” Anna says to Jo, who nods, “Then we know he has a stake in the apocalypse.”

“Or maybe, Little Orphan Annie,” The aggressively upbeat tone is cracked at the edges, as the Trickster strides through their door as if he belongs there, “I’m just tired of all you angels and your petty little squabbles.” She moves to stand, but a flick of his hand and Anna is forced down. “I’m trying my best to be civil here, don’t push me.” He looks around the five upturned faces, all with differing expressions of rebellion. “Aw, such a happy family. I understand not wanting to step up to bat, but you’re only prolonging the inevitable. Michael and Lucifer _will_ duke it out, and I for one am ready to throw them the Grand Quinceañera and set up the piñata.”

“We can avert it,” says Anna.

“Right,” He drawls, “And how is the quest for Daddy going?” Anna bristles.

“I told you,” Jo drags the attention away from Anna, “Nothing you say will convince me.”

“Then I’ll keep you in here,” The Trickster smiles, “Forever. You think I’m out of ideas?” He taps his head as he hums, “Here’s one: I’m tired of the ensemble. Let’s break up this party.”

He snaps his finger, and Jo and Anna reappear in a mythical Grecian village. Jo looks around at the ladies wearing leather, and one super hot babe nods at her and says, “Greetings, warrior princess.”

“Fuck,” She says, “We’re in god damn Xena. It’s a good thing I’m into Lucy Lawless, otherwise we’d be totally in the dark.” She glances furtively at Anna, staring curiously at some of the hot leather-wearing babes. The Trickster better not be trying to tell her something. You know, other than the apocalypse thing. She’s got enough men trying to meddle with her love life.

 

* * *

 

“You’ve been sleeping with my twin brother!” Jimmy Novak is pointing, speaking in a warbling voice. The crowd gasps. Dean is confused.

He asks, “Aren’t you married?” The crowd erupts into even more ‘oohs’ as Jimmy thumps his chest as he whirls away dramatically. They’re standing on opposite sides of a fancy four-poster bed, the bed coverings all disheveled.

“I… How did you find out about Amelia?” Jimmy hams it up for his life, and Dean’s beginning to get the picture. He’s in a god damn soap opera.

“Jesus, were we supposed to be sleeping together? Holy fuck, _gross_.”

“I knew you never cared for me!” Jimmy shrieks just as Cas walks in. Jimmy pivots on his heel and gasps along with the audience. “Cas, it isn’t what it looks like, I swear!”

“I don’t know what it looks like,” Cas says evenly, and Dean is so fucking happy he’s here. Cas stares at Jimmy with a little more than his usual intent. “A close facsimile of my brother, but not perfect.”

“You always win, don’t you, Casey?” Fake Jimmy hisses. “You won the wings, you won the man! When’s it going to be my time?”

“Can we just get out of here?” Dean sighs.

“I believe we won’t be free until we play the Trickster’s part.”

Dean’s about to ask what part, when Fake Jimmy all but tells them. “Go on Dean, tell him how you feel! Don’t hold back, I can take it!”

Shit. Shitshitshit.

“Play the part, huh?” Dean mutters, meeting Cas’ gaze. At least the angel looks as petrified as he feels. Maybe they don’t have to get too deep. Maybe there’s a loophole. Dean girds his loins. “Uh, it’s true, Jimmy, me and Cas fuuu… slept together. And it was, you know, good.”

“Really?” Cas says, then covers his mouth. He looks surprised he said that. Could be the Trickster is messing with their heads.

Dean furrows his brow. “Well, yeah. We got, uh, what, you know, folks call chemistry.” He swears he’s smoother than this, or maybe it’s Cas that’s got him tongue-tied.

“Go on,” Fake Jimmy urges, “Tell him how your heart yearns for him when he’s away.”

Getting tired of it, Dean says flatly, “My heart yearns for you, Cas.”

“I see,” Cas nods.

“Now Cas,” Fake Jimmy pleads, “Don’t let his love be in vain. Tell him you would give up anything for him!”

“I would give up anything for you, Dean,” Cas says carefully, sounding out the words. “I have already given my life once. Your…” He glances away as he goes on quicker, “Love is not in vain.”

“Let’s join this union in a kiss!”

Okay, Dean’s had enough. Time to ditch the script.

He punches Jimmy in the face.

The Trickster rocks back, glares, and says, “Rude.”

Then Cas stakes him with a broken off bed post.

 

* * *

 

Jo thought she had it after she staked a warrior chewing bubble gum. She and Anna had appeared back in the warehouse. They caught their breath for only a second before Sam, Dean, and Castiel flicker back with them.

“You’re all okay?” Dean had asked, surveying the group. Everyone’s sort of watching Sam, because he’s red as a beet. “Where’d the dick send you, Sammy?”

“You really don’t want to know,” Is all Sam will say.

She thought she had it, until they walk outside and the Impala’s the freaking Mystery Machine.

“A stake should have worked,” Anna says as Dean throws open the back of the psychedelic van.

“Unless,” Jo begins.

Dean pulls out a sealed jar of oil. “This was never a Trickster.”

 

* * *

 

Her brother doesn’t meet her eyes as he tells the humans, “Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel.”

The air leaves her vessel’s lungs, and it is lucky Anna does not need to breathe.

Gabriel was the most admired archangel. Michael was revered, Raphael feared, Metatron tolerated, but Gabriel was vibrant, powerful, and good. His loss had been devastating to the Host, and the seraphim had mourned through most of humanity’s Dark Ages.

To learn he had been on Earth the entire time, masquerading as a demigod no less, left Anna unsure of what to feel.

“I was tired of the fighting,” Gabriel tells them, all levity gone, “Michael and Lucifer, angels and demons, and Our Father nowhere to be found. I got out.” He looks at the two brothers. “You Winchesters should know what I’m talking about. You ditched the family drama at one point, only to get dragged back in once Heaven started the Apocalypse rolling.” Dean still glowers, but Sam, Anna notes, appears moved.

“If you wanted out so bad, why force me into it?” Jo asks him, her expression fierce and grim.

“You were chosen by destiny long before you could say ‘dewil’s twap’,” He replies, “And the sooner you accept that, the sooner this drawn-out pissing match can be over.”

“Why won’t you join with us?” Anna hears herself say, though she doesn’t know where she got the courage to speak in front of an archangel. Castiel is certainly remaining silent and hanging back. Her voice continues, “You are endowed with as much power as either Lucifer or Michael. If we combined forces—“

“What forces?” Gabriel laughs, and she falls quiet. “You, Anael, need to face facts. Daddy has left the building. You’re wearing out your grace skipping over planes of existence searching for someone who can never be found.” Anna feels her wings draw in, and knows there is some truth in his brutal words. Her wings, the extension of her grace in this plane, are showing signs of damage and fatigue. Without being able to return to Heaven, she knows she will deplete her grace within the year.

“And you,” Gabriel turns to Castiel, who straightens to attention like a soldier, “Castiel, the defective seraph. You need to decide what you are. Are you an angel who used to be human, or a human who became an angel? You can’t be both, and it’s going to tear you apart if you don’t figure it out soon.” Castiel says nothing, but Anna can feel the power in his gaze as he stares down their elder brother.

His gaze swivels back to the humans, “And as for you—”

“No!” Jo shouts over him, and Anna can’t help but flinch. “This isn’t about the angels,” Jo says, “This isn’t even about destiny or the ultimate death match. This is about you not being brave enough to stand up to your family.” Inside the diminutive vessel, she can feel the full wrath of an archangel swell in response to the harsh words Jo spits. “You’re a coward, Gabriel, and once _you’re_ ready to do something about it, come find us.” She turns, and she and the brothers and Castiel retreat to the warehouse door.

Anna remains where she is. She can sense Jo hesitate by the exit.

“I don’t want to leave you, brother,” She says quietly, though it echoes through the room. It is undignified, but Anna sinks to her knees and sits. “I will wait with you. If you stay after the Holy Fire has been put out, then let’s talk.”

As the others leave, one of them throws the fire alarm, and water rains down upon them. Gabriel’s gaze shifts from the closing door to Anna.

The fire burns out.

 

* * *

 

“These people have an effing convention?” Jo hears herself say in a tone some might call _shrill_. If she _were_ to be described as shrill, she’d be entitled to it, is the thing. She’s staring at about a dozen blondes in push up bras and short-shorts, and while normally Jo would be one hundred percent down with that, these people are pretending to be _her_.

“Don’t they have anything better to do?” Sam asks, eyeing a bickering group of women, one wearing a very bad red wig, and all of them sporting huge buttons on their flannel shirts. It’s impossible not to overhear them now that he’s brought them to Jo’s attention.

“It’s so obvious Jo’s in love with Dean,” One girl says, pointing with a shoddily made wooden stake, “Just look at _It’s A Terrible Life_ verse, Zachariah brought out their secret desires!”

“Ugh, you’re completely missing the subtext!” Another pipes up, her button’s a different color. “Jo and Sam have this deep chemistry that stems from rejecting familial and social norms! It’s all there in their psychology!”

Jo is stomping over before the brothers can grab her. “Jo,” Jo tells them with constrained fury, “Is a motherfucking lesbian.”

The group of women share this startled look, and then one of them scoffs.

“Uhh, bi-erasure much?”

“Yeah, it’s canon she found men attractive in the past, so can you keep your gay ship out of this discussion?” Another says, glaring at Jo, who’s completely lost.

“My gay ship?”

“Look,” The girl in the awful red wig says, “I’m an Anna stan, really, but it’s clear angels don’t experience gender and sexuality the way humans do. So JoAnna would never work out.”

“Yeah, too bad,” The first girl says, “At least she has Dean to fall back on.” This sets off another round of ‘Team Dean’ and ’Team Sam’ bickering.

Jo can’t listen to anymore. She’s gonna kill Chuck.

“I love your cosplay!” One of them calls after her, and Jo decides, no, she’s gonna torch the whole convention.

Too bad a ghost almost beats her to it.

 

* * *

 

Sam thinks there’s something very sad about the whole team being together at the end of the world.

One of Chuck’s groupies had latched onto him, something about being her favorite minor character. She told him about the Colt being in the hands of a demon named Crowley. They’d tracked him down and Crowley… well he’d _given_ them the Colt, something that irked Sam a lot. But, they’re not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

They have the means to kill the devil.

Bobby takes their picture, Jo, Dean, Sam, Castiel, and Anna. They’re not smiling or anything. They look like those photos of infantrymen that always run in the news.

There’s a very good chance they will die tomorrow.

“I don’t usually drink like this,” Sam tells Anna, as he downs another shot of Bobby’s best whiskey. The angel is watching him, they’re the only two in the kitchen. Jo and Bobby headed outside to sit on the Roadhouse back porch. He’s not sure where Dean and Castiel went but he’s definitely not going to look for them.

“Like this?” Anna repeats.

Sam waves the bottle as he pours another. “This much, y’know, in a row.”

“I have never consumed alcohol before,” Anna admits. “How many of these small units are required?”

That gets him an idea. A really terrible idea. He’s definitely going to Hell.

“Let’s test it,” He says, and he goes behind the bar to bring out as many shot glasses as he can carry.

Jo is gonna tear him a new one.

 

* * *

 

“Didn’t you say we had to stop meeting like this?” Cas asks as Dean shows him one of the spare rooms upstairs. The Harvelles used to let them to drifters, and Ash had been a permanent resident. Bobby’s been fixing it up, and there are familiar touches Dean remembers from staying at Bobby’s place back in the day. It’s pretty sparse, but it’s got a bed and clean sheets and a door that locks.

“Nah, one of these days we should try this under better circumstances,” Dean tells him, peeling off his outer layer, “But if we waited around for that, we’d never get a chance.” He glances back at Cas and stops taking off his clothes. Cas stands by the door. He hasn’t really moved. That trench coat is still hanging off his shoulders. “Are you okay, man?” Dean asks, and Cas jumps a bit.

“Yes,” He says and shuffles forward, “I’m fine.”

It’s bullshit and they both know it. Something’s eating him. Dean isn’t about to fuck him until he knows what.

“All that last night on Earth stuff,” Dean tells him, sitting on the bed, “You’re not worrying about tomorrow, are you? You’re an angel, man, you’ll be okay. We all will.” The last part is more up in the air, but Dean’s glad knowing Cas’ll be fine.

“That’s not what’s weighing on my mind,” Cas says, which is, as far as Dean’s concerned, an admission that something is wrong. He settles in and wills his semi to disappear. Good thing he only got down to his undershirt, he wouldn’t want to be having a serious conversation with his nips out.

“Shoot. What is it?”

Cas fixes his gaze on the wall-mounted antlers. He looks like he wants to sigh, but he holds it in.

“My brother Gabriel said some things when we had him captured.”

“C’mon,” Dean rolls his eyes, “You’re not letting that douche get to you, right? Anna hasn’t heard from him since, so I say good riddance.”

“He asked if I was fundamentally human or angel,” Cas says, “And I’m not sure of the answer.”

“You were an angel for longer than humans have been around, right?” Dean asks, not seeing the confusion. “Before you fell you were an angel for—“

“About 300 million years.”

That’s going to keep him up at night, but he’ll move past it. “You got your grace back and your wings and halo. So…” He shrugs. “Maybe I don’t get it.”

“I was also born on Earth after I fell,” Cas says, his hands fidgeting in a rare gesture. “I had a twin brother, and two parents, and a childhood rabbit named Nibbles. I carried my father’s casket and scattered my mother’s ashes on the coast of Lake Michigan. I was Jimmy’s best man at his wedding, and I held his daughter, Claire, hours after she was born. I kept four bee colonies and I gave the queens names from history. I still remember Beth, Vicky, Cleo, and Marie as much as I remember observing their real life counterparts. I lost my virginity as a human but gained divinity immediately after, and I…” Cas pauses, drawing breath at last. “Being an angel doesn’t fit me anymore. But I can’t experience the emotions I felt as a human the same way.” He raises his gaze to shift over Dean. “I know that I was very infatuated with you, but—“

Dean’s easy going expression freezes. His muscles are tight as he swallows.

Oh. He gets it. That’s why Cas is bringing all this up now. This isn’t ‘last night on Earth’ sex, this is a break up.

He croaks out a laugh. “The magic’s gone?” Cas doesn’t laugh or deny it, and that hurts more than Dean thought it would. He stands from the bed, wiping his palms on his jeans. “Hey, I get it. We never talked about how things would change after,” He waves his hand, “Grace-ification.”

“Dean, let me explain—“

“I get the picture,” Dean assures him, not even sure why he’s playing this off, “It’s nothing on you, man. I shouldn’t have assumed. I mean,” He laughs again, but it burns like puke, “We’re different species. It could never have worked out.”

“Dean…” This time he doesn’t cut Cas off, he doesn’t need to. Cas has nowhere to go with it. He knows the score as well as Dean. So Dean grabs his jacket and flannel and beats it back down the stairs.

He’s no angel, but he’s got the grace to bow out quietly.

 

* * *

 

Anna steps out of the car she shared with the Winchesters. From Jo’s vehicle Castiel does the same. Anna knows why. He is fascinated by the same phenomenon she is.

Reapers. What appear to be thousands of reapers standing in the street. They appear to be waiting, and whatever they’re waiting for cannot be good.

She and Castiel look at each other, mutual understanding passing quickly. “Stay with the humans,” Anna tells her brother, “Keep them safe.”

“And yourself,” He replies, and lets her walk away.

Anna sweeps through the town, her presence not disrupting the reapers. No humans that she can find. There’s a center to the reaper’s attention, and despite her trepidation, Anna approaches it. She touches down inside of a building. It is silent and still, until she takes a step and fire ignites around her.

She is trapped in Holy Fire.

A woman emerges from the shadows, and Anna recognizes her. The vessel has Jo’s brown eyes.

“Lucifer,” She growls.

“Anael,” Lucifer greets her like an old friend, “Or is it Anna now? Keeping with the times, I like it.”

She’s beautiful in the brunette’s body. The Morning Star glows brighter than the firelight.

Lucifer circles her slowly. “I take it you came with the humans?”

“No. I—“

“In an automobile no less. Are your wings really so weak?” Lucifer eyes her back and Anna turns defensively. They don’t exist on this plane, but she won’t risk giving Lucifer the satisfaction.

“Jo will defeat you,” Anna says with full confidence, “As the Righteous Woman, not the Michael Sword.”

Lucifer hums, amused. “One in the same, my dear. But I get your point.” She stops in front of Anna and smiles. Standing still, smiling, she appears innocuous. It’s a lie. “I don’t understand why you of all the angels are against me. I rebelled and was cast out of Heaven for disagreeing with the Host, as were you. We should be on the same side.”

“You eschewed the Word of God,” Anna insists. It’s an important distinction, the only one that has kept Anna on her mission.

“And you didn’t?” Lucifer lets out a laugh, that were she not inhabited by Satan would probably be Ruby’s girlish giggle. “It’s His script, we’re just jumping ahead to the good bits. Face it, humanity has been jonesing for it’s Judgement Day, and we’re going to give it to them.”

 

* * *

 

“Long time no see, Jo-Jo,” A woman with a heart-shaped face and wavy brown hair says to their party. Jo stands in front of the others, not trusting her for a moment.

“Who the hell are you?”

The woman smirks in a way that raises Jo’s hackles. “They say blondes have more fun, but I’ve been loving my new bod.” She looks behind Jo to Sam and Dean. “You’re still running with the Winchesters, that’s no surprise. You three always did like to play house, I suppose Mommy, Daddy, and Mommy are so proud, wherever they are.”

Jo feels Sam and Dean get it moments after she does. She lowers the shotgun to pull the Colt free and point it between her eyes.

“Meg?” Jo says, using the name of her old host. Yellow-Eyes’ ‘daughter’ had never given them a name when they met hunting down the demons who killed their parents.

“Howdy,” Meg waves. Her lazy gaze finds Castiel, hanging back by Dean. “You found yourself a pet angel, how cute. I’ve got a pet of my own.” There’s a splash by her side, and Jo tenses. She can hear heavy panting, the growls, from the invisible beast, and it brings her back to the sounds of her flesh being torn apart.

“Hellhounds,” She says, her grip on the Colt shaking.

“Your favorite!” Meg chirps. There’s more of them, Jo can hear them approach. They’ll be surrounded soon. “My Father wants to see you. Are we doing this the easy way, or the excruciatingly painful way?”

She has to blink past her memories of death and being dragged below, but Jo manages to shrug casually. “You know me, Meg, have I ever been _that_ easy?” She fires the Colt at the first Hellhound’s position, and the blood and whine prove she hit her mark. “Run!”

It’s a frenzy. Sam is up ahead of her, firing his pistol because the shotgun would throw him off balance. Castiel is waving his hand and she can sense when he’s force-throwing an invisible creature, but he’s holding back and it’s not making a dent in their numbers. Dean…

Dean falls, there’s one ripping into his ankle, and he’s screaming. Jo isn’t about to watch Dean get dragged away, so she stops. She lifts her shotgun and aims about a foot behind him.

A blinding light beats her to it, and Jo has to shut her eyes before she can fire. When she opens them, Dean is crawling towards the slumped body of Castiel. There’s no movement under that trench coat.

“Sam!” Jo bellows as she races over. She doesn’t even try to lift Castiel, goes straight to Dean and gets him to his feet. He resists until he tries to put weight on his torn up ankle. “We’ve gotta get out of the street,” Jo says once Sam is in earshot, “We don’t know how many of them are left.” Sam checks for a pulse, not that that means much for an angel, and hefts Castiel’s body into his arms. Jo’s searching for a place. “There, the convenience store. Salt.” It’s as good a place as any, and their hobbled party gets inside as quick as they can.

Jo lets Sam handle Dean, he’s good at holding hands. She’s gonna keep their asses alive. Salt, like she predicted, gets shook neatly on the floor. She does a full circle, just in case.

“Cas, man, wake up,” She hears from Dean as she finishes. “I know you’re in there you son of a—“

“Dean, come on,” Sam says softly. Jo walks back, but keeps her distance. It’s hard not to see Dean’s injury and Castiel’s lifelessness as her fault.

“Let him check out your foot,” She tells Dean in a tone like her mother’s. He doesn’t budge, and Jo wonders if they’ll need to club him over the head to get him cooperating. It won’t come to that, because that’s when Castiel blinks open his baby blues.

“Cas, thank fuck!” Dean sags forward. Castiel manages to sit up and hold him as if he hasn’t just been passed out. The two share an awkward embrace, then Dean leans back. “Thought I lost you, man.”

Blearily, Castiel shakes his head. “I knew that my grace was low, but I hadn’t anticipated…” He pauses and his gaze goes unfocused, looking inward. “It’s possible that Lucifer’s presence is affecting me. I am down to the last dregs already.”

“What does that mean?” Jo asks, crouching on the tile floor.

“I can’t fly you to safety. Any large expenditure of grace may mean my death.” She sees Dean react to that. Jo will feel guilty later.

“We’ve got Hellhounds on our trail,” Sam says, “They’ll be circling outside any minute. We can’t leave you here.”

Castiel meets Jo’s gaze, and she knows he’s thinking the same horrible, stupid thing she is. “You three need to get away. Take the Colt and kill Lucifer. I can take care of the Hellhounds.”

Dean races to argue. “You can’t take those bastards without your grace, it’s suicide!”

“No, it’s sacrifice,” The angel replies evenly. “I can attract the demons with my presence, and eradicate them with a final expulsion of grace.”

“But that’ll kill you!”

“Dean,” Sam puts his hand on his shoulder, and Jo can see the indents of his grip, “He knows.”

“He’s buying us time,” Jo agrees, nodding at the angel, “Thank you, Castiel.”

“Call me Cas,” He requests for the first time, and Jo smiles. She thinks of 2014 and all the time she never got to know this unique creature. She really will mourn for him.

Sam hauls Dean up, and when Cas sees the damage done to his ankle, he holds out two fingers and the flesh is repaired.

“C’mon,” Dean says, voice watery, “I thought you were saving that shit.”

“I can spare that much for you, Dean Winchester.” Cas tells him seriously. “I would give up anything for you, even my life, twice now.” There’s full on tears on Dean’s cheeks now, and he isn’t about to speak. Jo doesn’t know if he has the words anyway. Sam, though it clearly kills him, pulls Dean away to the back exit of the store. Jo gathers their weapons and slides a shotgun into Cas’ hands.

“If you can get them this way, do it and come back to us,” She says, but she and Cas are realists. They know the score.

Cas meets her gaze, and Jo gets why Dean likes blue so much. “Tell Anna that I followed the heart of her orders, if not the letter of them.” Jo nods, and very quickly, cups the back of his head and presses a kiss to his crown.

She, Sam, and Dean are a couple blocks away when the building explodes in blinding white light.

 

* * *

 

The Colt doesn’t work.

“Oh Jo,” Her sister’s face smiles at her, “I knew you’d be fun.”

Cas’ sacrifice was for nothing.

As Lucifer murders his devout demon followers and raises Death, the Fourth Horseman, Anna appears behind her and flies Jo, Sam, and Dean back to the Impala. They drive like hell away from an unearthly storm that threatens to bring the car down along with the remains of Carthage, MO.

The TV Bobby scavenged and mounted above the bar is murmuring everything they already know.

_“Just received an update that the governor has declared a state of emergency for Paulding County, including the towns of Marion, Fetterville, and Carthage…”_

Dean has been clenching his jaw ever since the explosion. He’s not thinking about the Horsemen or Missouri. Maybe it makes Jo a terrible person, but she isn’t going to comfort him. She doesn’t have any comfort to give.

She’d passed Cas’ message on to Anna. The redheaded angel had closed her eyes, a sea of emotion crashing over her face, and when she’d opened them again, she’d said, “Thank you.”

_“Death tolls have yet to be estimated, but state officials expect the loss of life and property to be staggering…”_

Bobby throws the photo into the fire, the closest they can get to a hunter’s funeral. An angel getting a hunter’s funeral is a first, but then Cas was no angel, and thinking that makes Jo smile.

Heaven, Earth, and everything in-between lost someone special. And while they’ll have time to mourn Carthage and the towns and states Lucifer and Death will raze to the ground, tonight they remember one fucking great guy.

 

* * *

 

“I’ve been thinking,” Anna says when she appears in Jo’s motel room one night. Jo, Sam, and Dean have been hunting, but it’s a stopgap at this point, and they all know it.

Jo rubs her eyes as she sits up. “Stop the presses.”

“Azazel was the demon who started all of this,” Anna explains, “He set in motion the events that doomed Ellen Harvelle to Hell and resulted in your breaking the first seal. If we can kill Azazel before he starts recruiting the children of Hell—“

“My mom was hunting Yellow Eyes ever since she lost my dad,” Jo says. “That demon is the reason she and the Winchesters are dead.”

“I know, he is a tough adversary,” Anna replies, a light in her brown eyes that makes her look manic, “But we have a chance of altering history and saving countless lives.”

“We’re not gonna be around, our lives would’ve never happened this way!”

“All of your parents would be alive. Isn’t that worth trying?”

Jo can’t deny she has a point.

“Okay, so how do we do this?”

“I… doubt I have the power to send all three of you, so you must go alone. I can bring you back to the year of your birth, the year Ellen first learned of Azazel’s activities. With your knowledge you can help her kill him.”

 

* * *

 

Funnily enough, it doesn’t play out that way.

“I am the Archangel Michael,” The monotone she’s come to expect from angels sounds so different in her mother’s voice.

Very quietly but with all the rage she can muster, Jo whispers, “Get out.”

Michael tilts Ellen’s head and simply says, “No.”

“Don’t you dare hurt her.” It’s like a mouse roaring at a lion, but it’s her instinct.

“I will not. Ellen Harvelle is pregnant with you, Jo, and I could never hurt my true vessel.”

“How did you get in?”

“I told her I could save Bill from the demons and she said yes.”

“Then I guess I’m not so special.”

Ellen’s face smiles, her eyes not yet crinkling with crows feet. “You’re my true vessel, but not my only viable one. You, your mother, even other hunters like the Winchesters are a bloodline, dating back from Eve, mother of Cain and Abel, originator of sin.”

There’s a lot to unpack there, but Jo focuses on the most surprising one. “The Winchesters and I are related?”

“Distant cousins from another line. Hunters have been bred by Heaven’s interference for a long time. We take interest in individuals combatting dark forces, it is why you are best suited for me. One of them could say yes, just as Ellen did, but the vessel would not last as long.”

Jo stares down the archangel. “I am not saying yes, none of us will.”

“You will. My Father has commanded it, as he has commanded me to murder my sibling. I take no joy from my duty, but I’ll do it. You and I are good soldiers, Jo Harvelle, and we will fight the good fight.” Michael turns away from her, to the body of her dad. With a wave of her hand, Michael heals Bill, the blood from the demon attack receding into his veins. “I keep my promises. For now, I will erase Ellen and Bill’s memories and return you to your time.”

“You can’t! She’ll forget everything about Yellow-Eyes!”

“It was always going to happen this way, Jo. You can’t beat City Hall.”

Jo has one last glimpse of her mother’s face, and then she’s in a dark motel room in 2010.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up on a fishing boat. The men tell him he fell from the sky. He hit his head pretty hard, which may explain his memory loss.

Except that’s just the story he’s given them. Castiel knows exactly who he is.

In a sense, anyway. It’s the what he is that’s troubling him.

He should call for Anna, but he doesn’t want to risk taking her away from her charges. Or worse, call and receive no answer.

He doesn’t even know if anyone made it out of Carthage.

Cas will make his way to the Roadhouse. He remembers how to be human, even if he has never needed to rely on strangers like this. He will survive.

And if the others have too then they can figure out what to do from there.

 

* * *

 

Sam is trying to figure out what the _fuck_ is going on.

The cupid is innocent, they know that. No way that crying mess could lie to them. But something is still killing people here. And on top of that, Dean, Jo, and Anna have lost their god damn minds.

When Dean started buying more cheap whiskey after Carthage, Sam didn’t say a word. They didn’t talk about what Cas meant to Dean, but everyone acknowledged that Dean had lost someone important to him. It’s alright if he needs to work through it, even if plastic bottles keep showing up in the trash.

Only, since they got to Sioux Falls, there hasn’t been a moment Dean wasn’t gulping down booze. Sam is convinced his piss is 80% ethanol.

Then there’s Anna. They’d called the angel after recognizing the Enochian symbols on the soul mates’ hearts. She’d been very helpful, especially as the deaths got weirder and weirder. And as weird as the deaths got, Anna got weirder. She started eating, which would be strange enough for an angel, but she only eats chocolate. Sam is tired of counting how many times she’s strayed to a display of valentine’s candy.

Jo’s at least herself, but a lot more so. She’s flirting with anything in a skirt and starting fights with men three times her size. Sam’s had to drag her away from chicks and their boyfriends every night they’ve been there. Between keeping Jo on a leash, Anna from going into a diabetic coma, and Dean falling into a regular coma, Sam is going to tear his hair out.

“I think I know what’s behind this,” Anna says when she shows up, pushing chocolate cake into her mouth. The sight would make Sam gag, but Dean’s already puking into the toilet, because Sam forced him to. Jo is lounging on her bed, and Sam notices with trepidation how she’s looking Anna up and down.

“If you could please come out with it,” Sam says as he pushes Dean’s head back down as another wave hits, “I’m really tired of the suspense.”

“The Horseman, Famine.”

Sam lets his head hit the sink. Fucking _finally_.

 

* * *

 

Famine’s voice rattles around his wizened body. “What you crave is a peaceful life, a life where your loved ones are safe and happy.” He tuts patronizingly, spittle flying from his mouth. “Samuel Winchester, you _know_ those desires can never come to pass. So here you are… _empty_. Nothing. Working so hard to keep sand from slipping through your fingers. You will _never_ be satisfied. You are one of _mine_.”

Sam shakes from where the Horseman has him paralyzed. The ring is on his finger and it’s so close…

There’s a feral roar, and the next moment Jo is bursting through the door, splattered in demon blood.

“Jo!” Sam shouts. “No!”

He can see the hunter’s bloodlust on her face, and knows what’s about to happen. She picks up a kitchen knife and stalks forward. For only a second, Famine has a smug expression, but it quickly transforms into fear.

Sam has to shut his eyes. He can still hear it though, the sounds of Jo ripping a man to shreds. It will keep him up long after she’s been bundled into a motel bathrobe and Dean’s done detoxing.

 

* * *

 

“Jo Baby!” Ash calls out as she and the Winchesters step inside the Roadhouse. It’s the old Roadhouse, with all its decades of decorations, the wood paneling, everything that was lost in the fire. Jo looks around at the familiar faces. Ash, Pamela, old hunters she remembers from childhood. No Mary, John, or Ellen, and she knows Sam and Dean’s hearts sink along with hers.

“Don’t tell me you ate it already?” Ash hugs her, and he’s exactly the same as she remembers. It brings the pricklings of tears to her eyes, and Jo blinks them away.

“Couple of hunters found us,” Jo explains, pulling back, “Offed us because they blame me for starting the apocalypse. Which is pretty much true.”

“Eh, what can you do?” Ash shrugs, leading their trio over to the bar.

“We’re not staying long,” Sam tells him and Pamela, who’s leaning forward intently to listen. “We know an angel, she’s helping us find our way back.”

“This is Anna?” Pamela asks, and Jo is reminded that Anna burnt the psychic’s eyes out. Sam and Dean shift uncomfortably as well. “No hard feelings,” She laughs, lifting her glasses and revealing bright, functioning eyes, “Factory reset up here.”

“Where’re you headed?” Ash asks.

“Somewhere called the Garden,” Sam supplies, and that leads Ash to start babbling and he drags Sam off to a corner. Jo meets Dean’s gaze and they share an understanding. Those two will geek out for a while and Sam will distill Ash’s genius into something the others can understand.

Jo leans over the bar to ask Pamela in an undertone, “Have you seen my mom? Has she come through here?”

Pamela shakes her head. “Sorry hun.”

Jo slumps. She’d thought Ellen would be here. While Jo had known her, the Roadhouse was her life, she was the lifeblood of the hunter network. If she was in Heaven, where else could she be?

Looking at Dean, Pamela went on. “Doesn’t mean she’s not up here. It’s the same way with Mary and John. Soul mates always share Heaven, and they keep to themselves. The folks in here, they’re clinging to the Roadhouse because it was the only home they had.”

“Do you…” Dean hesitates, and Jo feels a surge of pity. “Do you know what happens to an angel if they die? Do they come up here, or…?”

Pamela is gazing at Dean with profound sadness. “No. Heaven is where humans go after death, and the angels get the in-between spaces. I got no idea where a dead angel goes, if they go anywhere.”

He bites his lips and nods, as if he hadn’t been hanging his hopes on her answer.

Jo sighs. “Heaven sucks.” It earns her a smack upside the head. “Ow! Pamela, what the fuck.”

“Heaven is a blast, kid. It’s endless meadows and eternal peace, just like on the brochure. So what if you spread your legs for Michael? All those suckers will end up right here. Not a bad deal.”

Jo knows her answer backwards and front. “It’s not Earth. I don’t care how much peace you got, I’m not gonna be responsible for taking who knows how many people away from their families, their plans, their _lives_. That shit matters, Pamela. That’s real life, this is _Barbie’s Dreamhouse_.”

The psychic holds up her hands defensively. “It’s your choice, Jo, I’m just playing devils advocate, so to speak.” She looks to Dean. “And if it was your hot bod they chose instead? What would you do?”

Dean’s startled by the question, but Jo wonders how much Pamela knows. She hasn’t told Dean they’re related by cosmic design or whatever. Is she trying to fix the odds?

“I dunno, I guess I’m with Jo. It’s not worth taking free will away from the shmucks doing their best on the blue marble.”

“Your parents had gruesome, bloody lives down there,” Pamela reminds him. “Now? I’m sure they’re watching you boys play in the backyard and eating apple pie.”

Jo tries not to worry about how wistful that makes Dean.

 

* * *

 

Castiel, wait, he’s just Cas now, sits by a bus stop. It has a canopy, calling it a roof would be too kind, which is all he needs given that it is raining. In New Mexico. Cas is fairly certain luck is not on his side.

“Crazy weather we’re having, huh?” A middle-aged man asks as he sidles up next to Cas. He avoids eye contact and hums, hoping the man will leave him alone. His luck remains consistent. “You look like a drowned rat, boy. Are those clothes two sizes too big or did the rain rinse half of you away?”

“I haven’t eaten well lately,” Cas mutters, thinking fondly of the shrimping boat. That had been over a week ago.

“You headed up North too?” The man asks, unprompted. “Got any family who’s can put some meat on them there bones?” He sounds more and more like a parody of a prospector with every sentence. Cas inches away subtly.

“No family,” He says, then realizes what a good target that makes him, “But I have friends awaiting my arrival.”

“Some friends, to leave a poor city slicker like you all alone and such.” The man heaves a sigh, sidling up next to him and making Cas jerk away. “Now I’s could take you somewhere warm, fatten you up good, if that’s what you like.”

Cas hunches his shoulders. In the pocket of his leant jeans is a small boating knife, which he seizes the handle of. “If you are angling for sexual favors, I must decline.”

The man laughs. “No homo, bro,” He says, the words and tone vastly different than before.

Cas looks at him then and keeps looking as a thought occurs to him. The man’s clothes are dry yet he is not holding an umbrella. Cas had not heard him approach.

Suspicious, he repeats, “Bro?”

The man is suddenly no longer a middle-aged stranger, but a sandy blonde, shorter man Cas remembers all too well. “A little homo, granted, but not for you. Angel on angel, bleh,” Gabriel shudders, “Very weird.”

“What do you want?” Cas asks. He does not release the knife.

“Exactly what I said! Mi metaphysical casa es tu metaphysical casa! Take a load off, somewhere safe.”

“Safe?” Cas raises his brow. “The last time we met you put Anna and me in a cage match.”

“And you left me in Holy Oil, so let’s not point fingers.”

“Anna stayed with you,” He narrows his eyes, “She would not divulge what you discussed, if anything.” Gabriel very clearly ignores his implied question.

“Fine, you wanna talk business? Let’s talk.” The archangel steps out into the rain, which parts to allow him to walk without getting wet. Cautiously, Cas follows, half expecting the rain to hit him. It avoids him too thankfully. Gabriel seems to walk aimlessly in the center of the street, suddenly devoid of traffic. “The Pagan Gods, of which I am a part-time member, are clearing off this screwball planet. They’re heading for a pocket dimension to wait out the Mike-Lucy rumble.”

Cas asks, “Will you go with them?”

Gabriel moves his head back and forth in an indecisive gesture. “I’ve gotten stupidly attached to this rock. I can take a vacation, but I want to come back with most of the world in one piece, capisce? So I gotta proposal for ya.” They come to an adult entertainment store, the sort Cas knows Dean to frequent in secret. Gabriel pushes inside with no shame, and Cas has no choice but to follow. He peruses the racks of DVDs with lewd puns for titles, speaking to Cas without a shift in tone. “Here’s the deal: I give you the means to stop the apocalypse, and you take a break.”

“Seems too good to be true,” He reasonably points out, “May I ask why?”

Over the collection of _Busty Asian Beauties_ , Gabriel meets his gaze and says, “I’m tired of losing my siblings. Yes, that includes you, bozo. It’s like I left a bunch of toddlers in Evil Knievel's playground. Just because I’m not parent material, it doesn’t mean I enjoy seeing you angels eat shit.”

Uncomfortable, Cas shifts, “I don’t believe I am an angel anymore.” He considers adding, _If I ever truly was_ , but keeps it in.

“Yeah, yeah, but you’ll always be my lil bro,” Gabriel waves off the sentiment. Cas is very confused about what he should feel. Before he can decide, Gabriel thrusts a DVD in his hands. It reads _Casa Erotica 13_. “Welcome to mi casa, bro,” Gabriel tells him, then waggles his brows, and disappears.

Cas must dig through his pockets for change before the pimpled cashier lets him leave. The rain smacks him in the face once he does.

 

* * *

 

Dean hasn’t been doing too good lately.

This is the biggest understatement of the millennia.

Since Carthage, he’s been wanting out. If he’d stop to examine it, he’d realize he wants the Big Out. Oblivion. His experience with Famine showed him that much at least.

Jo and Sam are all gung-ho about saving people, hunting things but Dean can’t really muster up any enthusiasm. Leaving Heaven had felt like a mistake ever since hearing Pamela describe it. He’s spent most of his life saving people and feeling wretched over the ones he couldn’t, only for a woman he’s been mourning to tell him she’s having the time of her afterlife.

The only other person in as much of a funk is Anna. After they’d returned with Joshua’s message, the angel had given up her Holy Quest. It's difficult to see an angel lose faith. It’s unnatural.

Dean’s back at the motel, drinking, naturally. Sam and Jo are investigating the miracle chick. He’d begged off with the excuse of looking up the demonic symbols, but he hadn’t put in much effort before calling Anna. He doesn’t feel guilty about bothering her, even less so when she shows up completely wasted.

“Jesus, Anna,” Dean says mildly when she lurches in the door, “How much’ve you had?”

“Enough,” Is all she replies, her gaze zeroing in on Dean’s beer. He pats the sofa beside him and she stumbles into it. He passes her a bottle. He isn’t about to lecture her and he doubts angels can die of alcohol poisoning.

They drink in silence for some time, enough for Dean to stack up the empties into a castle. Apathetically she turns through the pictures they’d taken around town, flipping lazily through books to find their match, celebrating each minor victory with another drink. He realizes that he’s never spent much time alone with Anna. This is alright, he thinks. At least she’s dealing with her problems through alcohol and not stress eating. Even in the haze of booze he can recall her packing away a disturbing amount of chocolate.

Out of nowhere, she says, “Why couldn’t it have been you?”

“‘Scuse me?”

“If it were any other bloodline,” Anna goes on, rough and slurring, “I would not be so…” Her hands flutter as she searches for the word, “…Agonized.”

Dean knows what she’s saying, mostly. She cares about Jo, she’s the reason the angel rebelled. He doesn’t want to speculate, but he’s wondered before whether Jo has a crush on her angel, and now he’s considering whether that goes both ways.

Except there’s something else he doesn’t get. “What do you mean bloodline? Why’d you start off talking about me?”

Anna slumps against the sofa, her eyes closed, as she mumbles, “Divine heritage. Fate selected Jo as the Michael Sword, but it could’ve been one of a number of people descended from Eve and Cain. Ellen, you, Sam, an accountant in Wisconsin, an Imam in Lebanon, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera…”

Her mumblings continue, cursing fate, divinity, God, but Dean’s stopped listening.

He isn’t listening when Sam and Jo return and Anna tells them the miracle chick is actually the Whore. He isn’t really paying attention when they pack up and go to gank her. He isn’t there when Sam places his hand on his shoulder and asks if he’s okay, and Dean hears himself say, “Yeah, fine, let’s go kill a Whore.”

That night when Jo and Sam are in the twins and Dean’s curled up on the sofa, he carefully gets up. In the dark he grabs his pack, knowing from experience how to carry it so it won’t jostle. He creeps out of the room and the fresh air inflates his lungs. He’s so free he thinks he might just float up to Heaven.

It’s not clear where to go, but Dean knows how to find some crazies who’ll pray once he tells them the words. First thing’s first, he’s got to throw Jo and Sammy off his trail.

They’ll never understand. He’s doing this for them. They’ll be better off.

It’s time to be a big brother.

 

* * *

 

When Cas arrives at the Roadhouse, sore from three different buses, starving, cold, and itchy, it’s to find the place in a state of utter chaos. He’s several steps inside the door, observing the commotion before being noticed. It’s a good thing he isn’t a monster.

“Did you check in with Rufus?” Jo is shouting from a back room. Sam is at the bar with Bobby, bent over his laptop, with their backs to Cas.

“Since ten minutes ago?” Bobby bellows back.

“ _Yes_!”

“No!”

“Guys!” Sam interjects. “I found this kid Garth, he’s promising to look into the CCTV footage.”

“I’ve got Ash’s old programs running here!” Jo responds. “So far nothing! Anna’s flying everywhere but with the damn sigils she can’t pin him down!”

“Well the idjit can’t have gone invisible, someone will find him!”

Cas thinks for a wild moment that they’ve been searching for him. It makes his heart swell for the instant it is viable, before remembering that there is no way they’d suspect him to be alive.

“Who are we looking for?” He asks in a rare pause. Sam and Bobby whirl around and Jo crashes out from the back room.

“Cas?” She and Sam exclaim. It’s the Winchester who jumps up and embraces him, and Cas is grateful for Sam’s warmth. “Shit, he’s freezing,” He tells the others with worry. “We’ve got to get him washed up.”

“Wait,” Cas mutters. From his trench coat pocket he produces the DVD, the one he’s kept safe through every bus ride, while he was searching laundromats for loose change, the one that holds the fate of the world. He clasps Sam’s giant hands around _Casa Erotica 13_ and tells him gravely, “Watch this.”

He promptly passes out.

 

* * *

 

“I’m here, let’s get this over with,” Dean tells Zachariah somewhere outside of Van Nuys, CA.

The angel regards him with a smirk. “What makes you think we’ll take you? Don’t get me wrong, Deano, you’re very pretty, but you just aren’t packing the equipment we’re looking for.”

“Jo’s not gonna say yes,” Dean says, painfully ignoring the insults. “She’s better than me. She actually believes people deserve to be saved. So if you want this whole shebang to blow over, you’ll suck it up and take what I’m giving you.”

Zachariah hums, tapping his chin. “You are of a tangential bloodline. It’s viable, for a short-term solution.”

Dean spreads his arms. “Come on, I’ve never had to beg this much. Let’s do this thing.”

“Hang on there, I think this calls for a formal interview.” Zachariah snaps his fingers, and Dean buckles over, screaming in pain, because every rib in his chest has just been fractured.

 

* * *

 

Anna reels in pain, her meager, tattered grace drawing in to protect her.

Something has gone terribly wrong.

 

* * *

 

Dean’s in the dark, literally.

There’s nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to feel. He can smell though, wisps of memories that don’t make sense together: cut grass, candied nuts, blood, gun oil, barbasol aftershave, sun-warmed leather, apple pie, spilled beer…

“You’re Dean Winchester.” Ellen Harvelle fades into view. Her face is mildly disapproving, as if he’s six again being scolded for slipping away. “When Zachariah requested an audience I’d been hoping for better.”

He has to blink away everything he knows about this face. “Michael,” He addresses the archangel, “I know I’m not your first choice, but you need me. Jo’s never going to say yes, and it’s high time you get that.”

“You presume to know the future,” Michael says, but she’s smiling. “You’re so small, Dean.”

“Hey, at least I’m doing something in this war,” Dean says, forgoing conventional wisdom to not pick fights with deities. “I’m here, ain’t I? What’ve you been doing up in Heaven? Lucifer’s walking the Earth, killing folks left and right to beef up his demon army, and you can’t even get one girl on your side!”

Michael strides forward, and Dean keeps still. “You suggest I join the fight on Earth? You who cannot fathom the machinations of Heaven.” Still, Michael smiles, managing to look kind and indulgent with Ellen’s harsh features. “And yet, you touch upon something intriguing.” There’s a long pause, and Dean wonders if anyone out there can feel it. This is the moment that will decide the world’s fate. He waits with every fiber of his being trembling.

Finally Michael says, in a voice brimming with purpose, “Dean Winchester, do you consent to be my vessel?”

“Yes,” He answers, and then feels himself die. That’s what this must be. He’s compressed, all atoms forced together, until he is minuscule. In his place there is a mighty lion, that isn’t a lion at all, coiled around him, burning all things. He is consumed by fire, and he realizes this must be Hell.

And yet still he is alive.

The lion speaks, it’s gaping maw revealing billions of rows of teeth reaching back into endless blackness. “Your body is mine for the time being. It shall be consumed by my grace within weeks, should my plan fail. Hopefully young Jo will spare you the agony.” Dean can’t think to form a question though the creature responds as if he did. “Yes, you are intact. She would not barter for your soul otherwise. My true vessel will be mine, all because of your sacrifice, Dean Winchester. The Gospels shall remember you, my victory bearer, the Harvelle’s Judas.”

Dean screams.

 

* * *

 

Jo hadn’t expected Dean to take off, and for a hungover and horrified Anna to stutteringly explain the last thing they’d discussed. Jo certainly hadn’t expected Cas to show up at the Roadhouse looking like he’d been scraped off the sidewalk. When Anna comes in, beaten and battered and goddamn sad, Jo is hardly surprised anymore.

“What?” She grunts out, steering the angel to a chair. Anna would probably collapse where she stood before realizing to sit.

The angel pushes her red hair out of her eyes. “Dean said yes.”

“Shit,” Jo mutters, slumping beside her. She curses some more under her breath. There’s not much more to say.

“What do we do now?” Anna asks her. Why the fuck is she asking Jo? She never signed on to be a general. She doesn’t have all the answers, she doesn’t even have one. Who gave Anna the right to put this on her? The fucking angel should have left her in Hell.

Even Jo isn’t so heartless as to say any of her thoughts. She keeps quiet until Sam rushes into the room. He looks excited, ecstatic even, and Jo goes pale. She puts her hand on Anna’s arm to signal her silence as Sam starts babbling.

“So get this,” He begins, “That porno Cas gave me? He’s not crazy.”

Jo stands and steps towards him. “Sam—“

“Gabriel left a message for us on the DVD! He knows how to put Lucifer back in the cage! We already have two of the components, War and Famine’s rings. All we need are the other two Horsemen’s and we’re set!”

“Sammy, shut up for a sec,” Jo orders him.

“Why aren’t you freaking out,” Sam insists, “This is incredible! We actually have a shot of winning this!”

“Sam, we know what happened to Dean,” Jo says harshly. Sam’s jaw shuts with a click.

It doesn’t matter how many times you have to give this news, it never gets any easier.

 

* * *

 

Sam has never felt at home behind the wheel of the Impala. She was always Dean’s Baby. Sam got shotgun, and despite his grumbling, he’d been fine there. Less responsibility, great view, by Dean’s side. It was comfortable.

Now he’s white-knuckling his way toward Pestilence’s last known location in the car his brother loved. He’s got Bobby riding shotgun and Cas napping in the back. He should be worried about an angel needing sleep, and he should be worried about how Bobby got his lead on the third Horseman, but Sam can’t muster up the concern.

He wants to kill Dean. Sam’s never been given to fits of rage, though that’s not quite what this is. He’s _simmering_. This is fury and betrayal and pain all rolled into one. He thinks his love for his brother has never been clearer than this moment, because it’s his love fanning the flames inside him right now.

Bobby’s casting him furtive looks with increasing frequency when he says, “Boy, you gotta unclench, else you’ll hit something on a deserted road.”

He mutters, “How could he do it?”

“You know your brother. Dean did what he thought he had to to protect his family.”

Sam shakes his head. “No way. He’s self-destructing, just like he did as a teenager.” He clenches his teeth and hisses, “So stupid.”

“Doesn’t matter why anymore, what matters is we’re gonna drag his ass back.” Bobby taps a rhythm on the window. “The three of us can get the Green Ring, Jo and Anna will get the last, and then…

“And then what, Bobby?” Sam demands. “This isn’t something we can exorcise.”

“Well I dunno what to tell you, Winchester!” Bobby exclaims. “We’ll do what we always do: we’ll figure it out.” The hunters fall into uneasy silence. There’s nothing Bobby can say to change Sam’s mind, and they both know it.

Eyes unfocused on the pin-straight midwestern road, Sam can feel a universal truth in his bones, as immutable as gravity.

The Winchesters cannot be severed. They are an atom, and everyone knows the devastation that comes from splitting the atom.

 

* * *

 

Michael kills Zachariah without pity. The news he had brought was displeasing.

It seems the other Winchester and the fallen Castiel had dispatched Pestilence and taken his ring. Michael can see their plan and knows it will fail: they are hardly a match for the Fourth Horseman.

And yet, it gives him pause. Lucifer has been waiting very patiently. Now that Michael has a body, albeit not the one he most desired, it seems foolish to make her wait any longer.

There will be time to convince Jo later, provided Michael’s first strike be a powerful one. He knows this to be most likely a drawn out war. It will be easy to prevent Jo from becoming an early casualty, and if not, he has ways to bring her back to life as often as necessary.

She may well become like Dean, so tired of existing that she will say yes, once he revives her 50 or so times.

Yes, Michael resolves, it is time to see his little sibling.

 

* * *

 

“We do not know what lies inside that building,” Anna tells her as they stand on a Chicago street across from a pizzeria. She’s watching Jo with great concern, which Jo can only attribute to how far she’s fallen.

“Hey, relax,” Jo replies, “Nothing’s going to happen. I’m just walking in unarmed to have a chat with Death and see if I can scam him out of his ring.” She shrugs, “Simple.”

“Please do not be cocky.”

“If you think this is cocky, you still have a lot to learn.”

Anna asks with wide, beautiful eyes, “You are certain you don’t need back up?”

“That’s the last thing I need. I’m betting my neck that one human isn’t enough to startle Death, throw in any more than that and I get even worse odds.” Jo lets herself stare as the angel struggles to conceal her emotions. How far they’ve come.

“I will be here,” Her angel tells her. She can’t even fly, but she’s willing to rush at Death itself if Jo gives the signal. It’s so much, Jo nearly forgets her resentment.

“Well,” The hunter cracks her neck, “Here goes.”

“Wait, please,” Anna moves in front of her, standing far too close. “I wanted to express my thanks.”

Jo hasn’t done much to be grateful for, so she squints at the angel in confusion. “What for?”

“I have had my doubts about our ability to succeed,” Anna begins. “The forces of Heaven and Hell have been against us. We have not always agreed on our course, but I believe we have stood together.”

Jo can’t help but say, “Yeah, ‘course we have, Anna.” The redhead smiles at her, and it’s so much more genuine than the smiles she wore as Heaven’s bitch. This shows kindness and warmth that she’s learned on Earth.

“Fate conspired to pressure you to accept Michael, but you taught me that free will can trump destiny. In light of Dean Winchester’s decision, I needed to thank you for refusing to say yes. You’ve made my Fall worthwhile.” She clasps her hands to Jo’s shoulders, making the human breathe in sharply. She still has that crisp, windy smell, but now it’s got dirt and sweat mixed in, not angel or human but something in between. “I can only request that you remain steadfast. No matter what Death bargains for, do not say yes to Michael. I could not lose you, Jo Harvelle.”

It isn’t any conscious decision. One second Jo is looking at Anna’s pale, pink lips, the next they’re kissing, forceful and bruising, but still, closed-lipped, the kind actors used to plant on ladies in old films. The angel bows back, her hands slipping to Jo’s shoulder blades, and they only remain a moment before Jo has to pull away.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” She whispers, and doesn’t glance back as she legs it to the pizzeria.

The door makes a jingle as Jo pushes in, and in the center of the room is a round table with a deep dish pizza and a gaunt, terrifying figure sitting and eating alone.

“Took you long enough,” Death tells her, “Sit down. The pizza is nearly cold.”

 

* * *

 

Lucifer is fond of Ruby, the way one is fond of a goldfish or guppy. She keeps her dormant, rattling around the bottom of her subconscious. Occasionally, when she gets bored, she will consult Ruby about which method of torture she ought to use this time, just to hear her scream. She’s got a goodness which is simply precious though shouldn’t be surprising. For all her awful upbringing, she is, after all, a Harvelle.

She wakes Ruby as she waits in Stull Cemetery. Lucifer assures her that the fruits of their labor are about to be reaped. The girl pleads, yet again, and Lucifer quiets her with disappointment. She keeps hoping Ruby will get more interesting.

Though she was hoping for Jo, Lucifer would recognize her sibling in any body. “It's good to see you, Michael,” She greets the body that once belonged to Dean Winchester.

He answers as he approaches warily, “You too. It's been too long. Can you believe it's finally here?”

“A part of me wishes we didn't have to do this,” Lucifer answers honestly. She could never lie to Michael. She sees the truth on his face: he feels the same. “Why must we? We’ll kill each other, and for what? One of Dad’s tests?”

“What’s your point?”

Lucifer smiles at her elder sibling, “Let’s just walk off the chessboard.

“What, you think I'm gonna rebel? Now?” Michael shakes his head, “I’m not like you.”

“Please, Michael—“

“This isn’t Father’s doing, it’s yours. You’re a monster, Lucifer, and I have to kill you.”

After millennia in Hell, it’s hard to imagine Lucifer has any heart left to break. But she does, and it does, and Lucifer pulls herself together and prepares to rip out Michael’s in return.

“If that's the way it's got to be... Then I'd like to see you try.” The titans meet at the battlefield and begin to slowly circle. They’re gathering their immense strength and daring the other to throw the first punch.

Suddenly a car’s engine roars, and music blares from over the hill.

 _Wake up in the morning feeling like P-Diddy,_  
_Grab my glasses, I'm out the door, I'm gonna hit this city,_  
_Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack  
_ _'Cause when I leave for the night, I ain't coming back…_

“Sup, bitches,” Jo calls as she gets out from the Impala. Sam and Bobby file out behind her. They form a united front looking down at the two archangels. “We’re not interrupting anything, right?”

 

* * *

 

The grand battle is swaths of time, moments here and there, none more important than another. They pass like heartbeats.

One…

“Hey douche-face!” Anna calls out, lobbing a molotov cocktail of holy fire at Lucifer. She bursts into flames and screeches. Michael glares and Anna explodes.

Two.

Michael has Jo on top of the Impala’s hood, crushing her throat with both hands around her neck.

“I want you, Jo,” Michael hisses, “But I won’t let you stop us now.”

Bobby shoots him in the back, and Michael snaps his neck.

Three.

Sam and Cas leap on Michael. His hands are still strangling Jo, so he doesn’t move to shake them off. He is singularly focused. Almighty wrath.

“Dean!” Cas shouts into his ear. “Look at her!” Jo’s face is turning blue.

“Dean, I know you’re still in there,” Sam says, lower volume but no less urgent, “It’s me. It’s us. Sam, Cas, Jo, all the people who love you. You are _loved_ , for fuck’s sake, you don’t need to let go.”

Jo’s sputtering for air, but she spares enough to choke out, “D-dean…”

Four.

In the depth of Michael’s hold, Dean struggles. Flashes of memories come to him.

Swimming in the lake by the Roadhouse, splashing Sammy and Jo in the crystal clear water. Sam sleeping in shotgun. Jo shoving Dean over for teasing her. Singing to Bon Jovi. Crying over Jo’s grave. Saving Sam from a ghost. Trading beers in a motel room. Fucking Cas in the Impala. Eye of the Tiger. Jo meeting them in Sam’s apartment in California. Sitting on the hood and watching fireworks. Leaving Cas in Carthage. _We’ll hold them off_. Regrouping with Sam and Jo after hunting solo. Fixing up the Roadhouse with Bobby. Sam’s smile. Jo’s laugh. Cas’ eyes.

He claws his way up the lion, and though it fights, Dean has something worth fighting for.

His fingers, _his fingers_ , release Jo’s neck.

“I’ve got him,” Dean rasps, and feels Cas and Sam cautiously relax. “I don’t have long, but I got him.” He turns towards Sam. “You gotta do it. You gotta end me now, while you can.”

“No!” Cas shouts, but Sam’s got this look, dawning horror.

“The rings,” Jo says, standing from the Impala, “Sam, open the cage.”

Sam hesitates, “I…”

“Whatever you do, do it now,” Dean insists, “You think Lucifer’s a piece of work, Michael’s the whole package.”

“We can trap him,” Jo tells Dean, “Sam needs to say the incantation. He’ll never be free again.”

“Jo, stop!” Cas yells. “What are you saying! He can’t—“

“It’s Dean’s choice!” Jo shouts back. “That’s what we’re fighting for, isn’t it? _Free will_!”

“Cas,” Dean says, drawing the former angel’s attention, “You made it out.” He smiles, but it’s a strained thing. “I’m sorry. Seems like we’re always saying goodbye.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asks.

Dean nods. “I have to. It isn’t selfish this time. I’m ready to give this my all.” A harsh breath leaves him. “You guys got it right: saving people, it’s always worth it.”

Jo moves quickly, tossing the Horsemen’s rings on the ground. Sam closes his eyes so he won’t have to look at his big brother. “ _Bvtmon tabges babalon…_ ” The portal opens, a gaping maw into the inner circle of Hell. Everyone but Dean is pushed away by the torrential wind. He stands strong in the maelstrom. Dean meets the eyes of all those who love him, and feels worthy of it. This is his sacrifice.

“You kids be good now.”

“No!” Lucifer has reappeared, her long brunette hair still singed. There’s a wildness to her that only comes from love. “You can’t put him there alone! I won’t let you!”

Dean spreads his arms just as Lucifer roars and lunges forward. They grapple together, and Dean heaves backwards. They fall together into the abyss. After a moment, the portal glows blinding, the disappears, leaving the four rings gleaming in the sun.

The flotsam bobs in the wake, three humans kneeling on the grass. One blonde with bruises and blood for a necklace, one tall man bowed low under grief, and one former angel with no purpose.

 

* * *

 

Jo doesn’t think her body can feel anything, until there are two fingers pressed to her forehead. Her pain floats away. She looks up, and the sun hits her eyes so she almost can’t see who it is.

“Anna?” She asks, and the glowing figure nods. “Are you…”

“I’m alive,” The angel tells her, voice warm, “I believe my Father has brought me back. To my former glory.” She moves, and Jo stands. Sam is watching her too, as she moves to Bobby’s side. Anna bends and with a touch, he gasps in breath. Sam crawls to Bobby, hope on his face, so raw.

“Sam,” Bobby grunts, “What’s…” He trails off, as Anna leaves him. She moves to Cas, the only one not roused by her presence.

“Brother,” She says softly, “Rise.” Cas says nothing. Anna tilts her head, and Jo jolts when she realizes there’s nothing human in the way she looks now. “Won’t you come? I could take you to Heaven, we could rejuvenate your grace—“

“No,” Cas finally responds. “Leave me,” He glances up at Jo, and she has to turn her head from his pain, “All of you.”

 

* * *

 

_Endings are hard._

_Any chapped-ass monkey with a keyboard can poop out a beginning, but endings are impossible. You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. The fans are always gonna bitch. There's always gonna be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something. I'm telling you, they're a raging pain in the ass._

 

* * *

 

Anna watches Jo discretely. She is sharpening her knife, an activity that gives her comfort. Despite what the human believes, it had been difficult for Anna to return to Heaven. There's so much tying her to Earth now.

No, she revises that, there is one, and she’s staring at her.

Heaven is in turmoil. According to rumors, the Archangel Raphael is gathering forces. He believes himself to be the rightful leader of the Host, and Anna knows his plans will align with Michael’s. If the rumors are true, Anna must not stand for it. Everything Jo and Dean and Sam taught her about Free Will, she intends to teach her siblings. They will never be Fate’s bitches again.

Anna knows what this means for her: most likely thousands of years of war. She will have no time for Jo Harvelle. It is… disagreeable. And yet, this is how it must be.

Jo gave her so much. Before she is swept up in the fight against Raphael, Anna resolves to give her something back.

She has fought her way through Hell before, this will be no different she thinks.

She will be wrong.

 

* * *

 

_For the record, at this point next week, Bobby will send Sam and Jo out hunting a rugaru outside of Dayton. They made a promise to Dean to do good. The family business lives on._

 

* * *

 

There’s a knock on the door of a pretty house in Pontiac, Illinois. Jimmy Novak opens it to see his brother’s face twisted in pain.

“Casey,” He breathes out in disbelief, “How… where have you been?”

“It…” Cas stares at the human he grew up alongside, “…It is a very long story.” There is the sound of laughter suddenly from inside, and Cas glances behind him. “I realize it is very late, but—“

Jimmy takes his hand and tugs. “God, Casey, come in, of course.”

Cas crosses the threshold into his old life, his new beginning. There is family surrounding him, and it will be enough to forget the family he found. He will make it be enough.

 

* * *

 

_So, what’s it all add up to? It’s hard to say. But me, I’d say this was a test… for Jo, and Sam, and Dean. I think they did alright. Up against good, evil, angels, devils, destiny, and God himself, they made their own choice. They chose family. And, well... isn't that kinda the whole point?_

Chuck types the final two words of every story.

_THE END_

He smiles, and then is gone.

 

* * *

 

Claire hasn’t stopped hugging him. Cas has to hold her on his hip, and with an 11 year old, it is a feat no average human could manage with ease. Cas does, keeping her close, and her warmth coaxes a smile to his face.

“You’ll tell me the whole story?” Jimmy asks quietly, so that Claire won’t be disturbed. Amelia is holding his hand, steady support that stings Cas’ eyes. It isn’t hard to conceal this, not in a familiar home, with Jimmy and Amelia watching him with honest affection, Claire a constant in his life once more.

“Later,” Cas promises, forcing back the tears, “Tonight let’s just be happy to be together.”

He has no reason to look outside. If he did, he’d see a shadow under a streetlamp.

Dean watches the happy scene, like something straight out of a Rockwell, expecting to feel something. Wistful, maybe? Sad? The cruel touch of pining?

Instead there is nothing. He has been washed clean.

Dean Winchester whistles as he walks away from the Novak’s pretty house in Pontiac, Illinois, and wonders idly if there’s anything worth killing nearby.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I rewrote Season 5. This is probably my favorite season, so it's definitely way longer than I thought it would be. I don't really know if I'll continue on to Season 6 and beyond, because so much would have to change. I refuse to write some of those convoluted plot points. Still, I have a loose idea of where the story would go from here, so it's not out of the question.


End file.
